#can’t even tell him that you’re sooooo close

[seraphdreams]

toji fucks so deep you can feel it in your throat, n when you get all choked up on your moans he mocks u a bit ,, “what? can’t speak, ‘s too good? c’mon use your words.”

[shunsuiken]

HOW THE GENSHIN MEN FIND YOU DRUNK

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, tighnari, kaveh, wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + mentions of alcohol use ofc + reader is a lightweight (welcome to my life guys <3)

wc. 400-800 for each character

an. SOOOOO this was inspired by a cdrama i watched back in 2021 and when i saw it i just HAD to write about it <3 also i think i had a bit too much fun on zhongli’s and childe’s i hope its not so obvious dear god. also??? for some reason the ones i had the hardest time writing for ended up being the longer parts omg

kaeya alberich

after spending some time upstairs with a couple of treasure hoarders who were completely unaware of being thoroughly deceived by the cunning cavalry captain, kaeya decides to head down and run over the knowledge he collected with mond’s famed beverage, death after noon.

but as he walks down the staircase, he spots a familiar figure sitting by the bar. he squints his eye slightly, almost not believing the sight in front of him. is that y/n? on the high stool by the bar? dozing off to only a few shots of liquor? tonight just became even more interesting. now he’s starting to wonder what things you would say under the influence—for no shady reasons, obviously, as he genuinely enjoyed your company and witiful mouth. he’s just a curious man with the goal of unveiling a few other things about you.

he makes a beeline to the bar, setting himself on your right side so you’re in his line of vision. glancing around, he motions for charles for his death after noon. kaeya only turns to you once his drink arrives, quickly giving you a once over. seeing as how it looked like you came to angel’s share after work he might as well stir up a conversation.

your vision is blurry but you can definitely feel the presence of another person beside you. as you lift your head from your crossed arms, your brows crease in irritation. which imbecile decided to disturb your time alone? you’re literally brooding over the fact that captain kaeya would never be yours, so you irresponsibly decided an hour ago that some liquor would magically help you forget your worries.

you’re ready to scare the person off with a glare but what you’re met with is quite literally, much worse (because your glares don’t work on him and also because he's part of the reason you’re in your drunken state).

kaeya chuckles at your expression. “why the long face? it’s just me.”

you rub your eyes, groaning from the bitterness lingering in your throat. of all people, you weren’t expecting him. “you never stop by on wednesday’s. is something up?” you ask drowsily as kaeya watches you pick up your glass, clumsily squinting at the bottom of it to see if there was any more of your liquor left.

kaeya dodges your question, humming, “y/n sweetheart, you look like you’re on the brink of passing out.” he tilts his head, observing your flushed expression. if you can’t handle your liquor, he doesn’t mind taking you back home if it means securing your safety.

“am not,” you reply, turning your gaze to him. it’s all thanks to the alcohol that you can do so when in reality you actually struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “you… you haven’t answered my question yet. why’re you here?” your voice is hoarse and you’ve made enough voice cracks to entertain a crowd, but kaeya finds it rather endearing instead.

kaeya could reply honestly. but this conversation is one to be forgotten after you woke up tomorrow morning. he could lie and you would never know he did, but for a reason unknown the lie he was supposed to tell never left his lips. instead he blurts out the plain truth.

“somebody has to be responsible for you, y’know,” kaeya teases you with a grin but his actions are the opposite of his tone. he stands from his seat, pulling your arm over his shoulders to support your weight even when you attempt to resist his help. he keeps your body close to his so you don’t fall over. hopefully you’re drunk enough to be oblivious of the erratic beats of his heart alongside the cautious and warm touch of his hand on your waist.

diluc ragnvindr

he still can’t believe he has such a massive crush on you. it’s almost embarrassing to let others know about this secret because nobody would expect someone like diluc to have a thing for you. it’s even harder to hide that fact when you’re sitting at a table with venti and kaeya. they’re laughing their asses off at some joke you told them.

“cheers to y/n!” venti hollers, cheeks undeniably pink. “you are paying for this, right?” he leans back down momentarily, making you release another burst of laughter from your lungs at the way he mentioned it. “of course!”

after chatting, you decide to greet the man of the house by the bar. it’s been a while since you’ve seen the master diluc of dawn winery anyway. as you get up from the table to make your way over, you accidentally bump into a crowd of big, brawny adventurers who’ve just arrived.

“oh—!” tripping backwards, your hands fail to find something to keep yourself on your feet before your fall is cushioned by someone.

they hold onto your shoulder as your back collides with their chest. the force from being pushed aside has you breathing unsteadily, and it doesn’t help that you’re pretty tipsy right now too. however, despite how tipsy you are, you feel as though air is sucked right out of your lungs when you spot a tuft of crimson red hair from the corner of your eye.

you stand right up immediately, facing the person you fell onto.

“master diluc!” the dazed and naive look on a drunkard's face normally doesn’t appeal to diluc but this expression on yours actually makes you look rather adorable. your eyes are half-lidded and your smile is lopsided, and oh if he could squish those cheeks of yours-

“uh, master diluc?” you blink, toning your voice down a bit.

“oh.” diluc slides out of his mindscape, paying attention to your words. “yes? would you like a drink on the house?” because if you actually asked that, he would have sent one your way on the spot.

you wave your hands dismissively. “n- no no, not that! i was just asking how you were doing. you haven’t stopped by angel’s share since last month, i thought something was up so when i heard you were here today i…” you trail off, realising that you’re rambling and that diluc probably didn’t want to be greeted like this after taking a month off but when you look back at him, he’s still looking at you (and has been since you fell into his arms).

diluc raises his brow when he no longer hears your voice. but when he sees an expectant look in your eyes, he offers you his arm with a smile. “how about you tell me everything by the bar? that way i can serve you properly.”

your cheeks burn like a wild bonfire as you take his arm, now struggling to find excuses to somehow change the topic of conversation because if you continued your sentence from a minute ago, you would have exposed your secret attraction for the man in front of you.

(funny how you don’t even need kaeya or venti to expose you, you’re already the man for the job!)

diluc senses your sudden nervousness at the invitation. he does his best to bite away at the fond smile making its way to his lips. if he can help calm your nerves then maybe you’ll tell him about how much you missed his company at the tavern.

zhongli

zhongli didn’t know that his late night stroll around the streets of chihu rock would include witnessing your drunk state at third-round knockout. the streets have thinned out and it’s rather late too. he wonders what brought you over to the distinguished tavern.

the curious adeptus makes silent haste to peer over your shoulder. a cup in your hand and your head is lolling over. putting two and two together, you must have had your fill of alcohol for tonight.

zhongli finds himself chuckling before neatly folding his hands behind his back. “i wonder how y/n is faring on this wonderful night?”

your head snaps out of your drunken state momentarily, the coherent cells in your brain recognise that voice immediately but your vision is blurry. so instead of being able to greet the gentleman with dignity and grace, you end up tripping over the levelled bricks below you. 

“oh—!”

zhongli is quick to open his arms and catch you, his reflexes still polished despite his retirement as the geo archon. your head bumps into his chest as you grunt at the slight fright. and after regaining your foothold on the bricked ground, it comes to your attention that your body is flat against the man in front of you. more specifically, his arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you steady and your hands are fumbling awkwardly in the air because you don’t know where to put them.

looking up to meet zhongli’s eyes is exactly what you expected but you can never maintain eye contact with him. it’s not your fault he’s so handsome! his kind gesture makes your cheeks warm up, and he probably doesn’t even mean anything out of it but sometimes your mind likes to be a little creative and indulges you in a variety of impossible scenarios.

“archons, zhongli i’m sorry—i didn’t see you i—” 

“it’s not a problem, y/n. shall i walk you home?” zhongli offers, voice gentle and non-judgemental, like you didn’t just trip over a couple of bricks.

you shake your head, earning a raised brow from him. “i only live a few minutes away. plus, look at the time, we’ll look weird.”

“holding you in my arms will not make us look weird, rather i believe this is appropriate for us both. don’t you think?” the way zhongli tilts his head to the dominating tone in his voice makes you feel so small.

“i mean—sure but,” you reply, not daring to look directly into his eyes unless you were going to expose your hidden feelings for him. “but i’m drunk. it’s my fault, i can take myself ho—” your words are caught in your throat when zhongli lifts you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the steps and continuing down the street to bring you home.

this extra pinch of boldness is something that lays dormant within zhongli. but it always comes alive when you’re around. he has spent enough time around mortals to pick up the signs of the heart. your reactions to his touch, your flickering gaze and the heat from your face is no brainer. however, he will have to properly communicate with you when you’re sober.

for now, he only hopes that you will disregard the warmth radiating off his neck when you lean in to rest your forehead there.

childe

he’s dancing. dancing to his heart’s content. the band plays the second to last song but the harbinger barely feels like he’s lived up to the heights of the night. he requires more vigour, more energy from his dancing partners. sure, they were all wonderful dancers but he’s really only waiting for someone else to enter his field of vision.

childe knows you’re around here somewhere, you told him personally a week before the ball that you and your father were invited. after all, only the most distinguished noblemen and women were eligible to attend. and you, being the one and only child of one of the leading snezhnayan trade merchants, are an obvious guest on the list of invites.

childe dances, switching and gliding between different and eager dance partners, secretly hoping that the next gloved hand he would take would be yours. unfortunately, for the second to last song, he still doesn’t manage to find you amongst the crowd of participants dancing. so when the music stops he makes sure to return everyone a wave and entertain those who greet him warmly, doing everything in his power to stop the itch of impatience showing on his sweaty face. thankfully, he manages to maintain a calm and composed expression.

childe’s head perks up to a certain sound. amongst the music, the cheers and the clings of wine glasses he recognises a laugh. a laugh, to the extent of his knowledge, only he’s able to get out of you. he brings his wine glass away from his lips, licking the remnants of it from his bottom lip as he captures the sight of you chatting away with other guests.

scanning the guests’ faces, he concludes that they’re harmless thanks to information he was told prior to the event. so he makes his way over, smoothly including himself in conversation just to make an excuse to the other guests to ‘borrow your attention’ for a moment.

you take his arm that he offers you, holding your wine glass in your other hand. childe has always been a gentleman towards you, such a passionate person with excellent manners. you’re almost always guaranteed to have a grand time whenever he invites you out (obviously as friends, which you two have made known to the entire town).

“so ajax, tell me about your journey to liyue—” your throat interrupts your speech with a very clear hiccup. “—harbour.” your cheeks burn, quickly apologising for your lack of manners under your breath.

childe hums, loving how you used the name he told you to use when it’s just you and him. “your grace, are you drunk?” he gazes at your flushed face and how your styled hair looks more undone. he thinks you look better this way actually.

“i might be,” you sigh, wanting to hand your glass over to a butler but childe stops you before you can, taking your glass to quickly down the last sips of your beverage.

“ajax, what are you doing?!” you tap his arm repeatedly with concern, telling him to slow down.

you just got that glass a few minutes ago! but besides that, he’s drinking the wine you just had?! what if his lips touch the part yours did on the glass? not that you mind at all—you wouldn’t dare say that out loud but your thoughts are as clear as day on your expression.

childe enjoys the look on your face, satisfied and relieved that you didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. “i’ve not had the honour to dance with you tonight.” he passes the empty glass onto a passing butler’s tray. “shall i have the pleasure now?”

kamisato ayato

by this time in the evening, you, thoma and ayaka are probably done playing the hot pot game. which is alright since ayato knew he would return home from business later than usual tonight, but that doesn’t stop him from checking up on all of you. so when he slides the door open to see his faithful retainer, his sister and you sleeping soundly in the designated hot pot room at komore teahouse, the lord cannot help but stifle a fond laugh.

it then comes to his attention that the room reeks of alcohol. oh dear. that explains why everyone’s blacked out.

“‘yato?” he watches you lift your head from the table. ah, you’re still awake… and definitely drunk. no wonder you dropped the formalities all of a sudden. if you were sober you would have rushed to greet him by the door and refer to him by “my lord” despite all the protests he’s made to call you by his first name instead.

ayato hushes you gently, ignoring how his heart skips a beat at the mention of his first name leaving your lips and sits himself beside you. he’s almost taken aback by how you immediately lean onto his body for support. he knew you were an affectionate person but you normally asked before proceeding with anything just in case he felt uncomfortable (surprise! he never did). so seeing this side of you is rather refreshing to his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you blink hardly at him but it’s to no avail as the alcohol in your veins distorts your vision.

he brings you closer, gloved hand rising to caress the back of your head. “i just came to visit. however, it didn’t occur to me that you would all have so much fun without my presence.” 

“nonsense!” you claim dramatically, a satisfied smile immediately appearing on ayato’s face at your predictable reaction.

you poke his arm you don’t realise is already sat on your waist. you’re too ready to defend your lord from his own words to notice anyway.

ayato scans your face. lavender eyes find your plumped lips, the thin sheen of sweat along your cheeks and your hair attempting to escape the confines of your hairpin—hold on a moment, he got you that hairpin!

the way ayato has to physically restrain a grin from showing on his face is uncharacteristic of him. he’s noticed that he uncovers new parts of himself whenever you’re beside him. such an interesting person you are…

“we were waiting for you—hic—however, we got a little distracted.” you admit, gesturing at ayaka who sleeps soundly on thoma’s jacket. you look up at ayato through your eyelashes, giving him a lopsided smile.

“i remembered your—hic—advice when you said ayaka can’t drink more than a glass. she might even have it worse than me. but thoma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. that man was a mess!” you move your head to look at thoma’s body sprawled over the floor, ugly giggles leaving the back of your throat at how much of an idiot he looks like right now.

your hair tickles ayato’s chin but he pays no mind to it when he’s so immensely amused by your relaxed nature when drunk.

thoma

thoma mentally checks his list of things to do before retiring for the night. his lord is in his office, accompanied by a freshly made pot of tea, his lady should already be sound asleep and the other retainers are also readying to retire too. he sighs to himself, patting his jacket down as he heads to the kitchen to finalise his cleaning.

when he enters the kitchen, he is baffled at the sight in front of him. he stares blankly for a moment to process it.

there’s remnants of sake dripping out of a tipped-over tokkuri and his lover who plays with the o-choko absentmindedly with their finger, drawing invisible lines along the rim. thoma stifles a giggle, a curled finger covering his lips.

his giggle sends your consciousness back into focus. you only have the power to tilt your head ever so slightly to the right, your movements pausing on the o-choko when your gaze falls upon the view of your lover.

“tho—ma,” your cracked voice calls for him, making him rush toward you in such fondness so he could pinch your cheeks.

“oh, y/n, what are you doing?” thoma asks as giggles leave his lips, watching you squint at him dazedly. “it’s dripping from the corner of your lips as well!” he takes a napkin, sitting next to you to wipe it away gently.

“wh- where’ve you been, pretty?” your words are slurred but thoma hears you perfectly well.

the pet name makes him blush, but you’re too drunk to notice. “i’ve been doing my job—oh, honey—” he huffs when he brings you to lean on him instead. the longer you lay your head on the table, the more you’ll want to throw up later (and thoma makes sure to prevent that from happening).

you giggle at the little voice crack you hear when he calls you by your pet name, leaning onto his chest as your head rests on his shoulder blade. taking advantage of this position, thoma presses a cool ceramic cup filled with water by your lips and when you lazily open your eyes, you see that it’s the glass that’s been sitting on the side from earlier.

“drink up, honey.” you can’t refuse such a request when it’s mumbled so affectionately by your ear. you’re probably even warm at your cheeks from it, but then again, the sake has kept your cheeks warm for a while. you can’t even tell anymore.

after taking a few sips of water, your throat feels fresh and renewed—if thoma heard your thoughts, he would deadpan at you and say “y/n. it’s called getting hydrated” in a sassy little voice. this scenario amuses you and it causes a small laugh to leave your lips.

above you, thoma is confused. “what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously with a smile.

as you rest your head on thoma’s shoulder again, you reply, “you. i’m just thinking about you.”

tighnari

a shout from outside tighnari’s lodging brings his attention away from his documents, brows furrowing and pushing himself up from his chair to see why his forest rangers are making such a fuss at an ungodly hour (yes, tighnari was awake at said ungodly hour but that wasn’t because he was with his fellow rangers after a night out!).

“tighnari, we’re back!” a drunk forest watcher waves and yells at the figure of tighnari, who has his arms crossed in front of him.

a sigh leaves tighnari’s mouth, one of exhaustion, to be precise. “do you intend to wake all of gandharva ville up? go find yourselves home and rest.” he turns around to head back inside until another forest watcher pipes up.

“wait, tighnari! y/n’s black out drunk!” a female forest watcher, who’s eyes can’t even look at a single point any longer due to the alcohol running in her veins, displays your figure with your arm dangling over her shoulders. “you need to take them back, i don’t know where they live!”

tighnari raises a brow and chuckles, shaking his head. “yet you’re sober enough to tell me this.” he walks towards the group of drunkards and collects you easily from the forest watcher, carefully placing your arm over his shoulders while his other hand holds your hip.

you barely know where you are and what’s happening but it appears that your assigned guardian angel for the night has retired and put you in more capable hands—or, arms. you blink in an attempt to gather knowledge of your surroundings but it’s to no avail when everything is a blur of darkness with hints of warm light from the dew lights.

a grunt escapes your lips in slight frustration as you walk away with this other person, but they’re quick to hush you gently and in a soft voice you hear, “i promise we’re almost there, just walk with me, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you reply promptly but to tighnari’s ears, he’s never heard such a tone in your voice ever since you were recruited. his heart skips a beat and his ear twitches along. it’s rare to see you so vulnerable and he can tell you have no idea that he’s the one carrying you back to… well, his lodging. because your lodging is simply too far away (it’s only a bridge away) and he can’t have you walking any longer when you look like you’re on the verge of passing out! 

he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when his gloved hand holds onto your forearm to keep your body steady against his as he walks you to his lodging. his body is going against him and his heart can only take the blame for such ridiculous delusions. what does he think he will get out of this?

he’s just your chief forest watcher, that’s all he will ever be to you—is what tighnari thinks. but in reality, you only went out with the others to spiral in alcohol due to your failed attempts of romancing your handsome superior. it seemed that the sumeru roses and the letter you left at his doorstep were blown away by the wind (you had to commit blasphemy on that day and curse the anemo archon), the pita pockets you made for him were stolen away by some petty treasure hoarders when you weren’t looking and overall, your thoughts were a mess thinking about your failed attempts. it was like your beloved archon forgot to bless you with wisdom to avoid these situations.

“see! i told you he had a soft spot for them!”

“it’s so obvious the feelings mutual, i can’t believe they didn’t believe us.”

“they’re literally the only one who can’t see it!”

tighnari clears his throat loud enough for the group to hear him. he turns around and gives them a pointed look until they’re all skipping away to their respective lodgings.

he glances at your drunken face for a brief moment and smiles to himself, continuing to walk you back.

it appears that all his worries were meaningless.

kaveh

the sight of you leaning against the door to his home almost makes his soul fly right out of his body.

“hello y/n, i thought we were meeting for dinner?” but when kaveh finally makes it to where you are, you are nowhere near sober. no wonder your figure was leaning against the wood so flimsily. you were akin to a ragdoll at this point. “great heavens, is the end of the world upon us? why are you drunk before me?” he hesitantly collects you in his arms while mehrak hovers beside him. he can’t have you just leaning like that!

“went to… birthday party… drinks…”

that’s enough information to bring kaveh up to speed with the situation. but also… why did you decide to go to his house?! was it instinctive?

kaveh cringes at his thoughts and opens the door with his free hand while his other hand supports you by your waist (he can feel his palm warming up to the touch on your body and it’s making the poor man sweat). “come on in, let’s sober you up.” 

when you’re sat nicely on the couch, your eyes are still closed with zero awareness of your surroundings. how your head suddenly tilts backwards at such speed almost brings the most horrific yelp out of kaveh, he’s relieved to know his reflexes are still sharp enough to have caught your head before it snapped right off your neck.

“archons, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he holds the back of your head and somehow manages to bring your body to lean against the spine of the couch. he doesn’t forget to put a pillow behind your back either, because you being drunk doesn’t mean you’re drunk enough to not feel discomfort.

after collecting himself from that scare, he returns with a cup of water, hands carefully hovering it in front of your lips. “here, drink up,” he says but you keep moving your mouth away from the cup that it’s slowly beginning to irritate him.

“y/n, you need to sober up if you’re going to walk home later,” he tells you in a more serious voice which makes you groan, throwing your head forward into your hands.

“you don’t understand.”

“what don’t i understand?”

what am i doing here? i swear i was in front of my friend's place… how is it that my drunk feet led me here? out of all the places on this continent, why did i take myself to the one place i’m trying to avoid?!

kaveh raises a brow and puts down the glass of water. “is something wrong, y/n? i haven’t even seen you since last week.”

“i’ve been… busy…” trying to keep my feelings at bay!

“i see,” kaveh responds before adding, “do you still feel drunk?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m drunk to the point of passing out—i did feel like that earlier but now that i’m sitting i can at least participate in conversation.” you remove your face from your hands.

why is his face so pink? you think to yourself, grabbing the glass of water from the table to take a sip before leaning back with your free arm supporting you. you grin to yourself, feeling a little cheeky.

you offer the glass of water you just drank from to kaveh, hovering it in front of his lips and you swear you almost watch his eyes fall out of their eye sockets.

“what—what are you doing?!” kaveh’s voice shakes and you let out this cute drunken giggle that makes his heart leap. 

“i know i’m the one drunk, but for some reason you look drunk without even having drinks!”

kaveh touches his face and he purses his lips. his cheeks are so used to being hot from being in your presence that he didn’t even realise!

“allow me to assist you.” you lean your body a little closer so you can press the chilled glass of water against kaveh’s cheek.

his bottom lip falls and quivers when you lean closer towards him. last time you were this close, you were putting medication on his face after a run in with fungi.

the coldness of the glass somehow gives him time to think to himself—rationally. maybe in this moment right now he could…

“thank you, y/n.” you’ve never heard this tone in kaveh’s voice, it’s unfamiliar and so… tender. what he does next makes you finally meet his scarlet eyes.

a warm hand wraps around your wrist that holds the glass to his cheeks, your skin immediately lights up in fire at the contact. it makes you gulp so embarrassingly loudly before him.

he leans into the coolness of the glass, gazing at you with such gentle eyes that it’s tempting you to look away. as his thumb gently caresses your skin, he smiles. “it helps.”

wanderer

wanderer returns to his home a little later than usual tonight. he made sure to leave a note on the dining table to let you know of his whereabouts for the day. he knows you have the propensity to worry about him, despite his claims that he’ll be perfectly fine because of how well-versed he is in the arts of defence (and nasty attacks). which is why he left the note on the table, and he acknowledges how it was moved to another spot on the table from this morning.

you’ve seen it. he thinks to himself and now he wonders where you are. you’re not normally out at this time and from your cute daily schedule reports you tell him before bed, he doesn’t remember you mentioning that you would be out until this time. or if you were going out with friends.

that’s alright. wanderer can wait.

the tapping of his own foot is driving the man on edge. it’s been two whole hours—the sun is far beneath the horizon and the birds are already snoring. where the hell are you? wanderer cannot do this anymore, he rises from his seat and takes flight with his anemo abilities.

the city is rather easy to navigate at this height. in the dark, the city is at least still lit up by streetlights and with the help of one nearby lambad’s tavern, he spots your curled figure sitting on the floor very easily.

he hovers over the cement before landing smoothly on his feet. “what are you doing here at this time? it’s so late,” wanderer remarks with irritation, standing in front of you with his arms folded. he stares at your figure with a frown.

“h-huh?” your voice comes out hoarse, lifting your head and your eyes slowly make out the figure of wanderer. “o-oh it’s youi… where’ve you been?” you manage to say despite how the world shakes around you.

“tch, what do you—” wanderer stops himself, raising a brow then finally taking the time to scan your face and posture and it hits him.

you’re fucking drunk.

“you’re insane,” wanderer scoffs, kneeling down to silently take a closer look at your face and body for any drunkenly bruises. “do you even know what time it is? i was waiting for you.” he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands but he decides to offer you one to help you get up on your feet.

“you think i’m insane but really, you’re the one doing insane things all the time! you know, like fighting fatui agents in the rain… to avenge a bird!” you put emphasis on the word ‘bird’ and wanderer scoffs at the finger you point at him.

“it was in danger,” he replies simply before sighing, “but that’s not the point. you’re drunk outside at a time like this so i’ll be taking you home now.”

talking to him magically makes you more sober with every passing second. you decide to play with him a little, leaning back on the brick wall as the crease in your brow melts away. “ooh, shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

wanderer groans, pulling his hand back. he’s never had to deal with you drunk before! so he thinks for a moment, and he stands tall on his feet, turning his head the other direction. “if this is how you will continue to act then i will leave you to your own devices, however if you come back crawling to me—”

wanderer almost gasps at your figure suddenly standing beside him, steady on your feet as you give him a hard and long stare. “you don’t have to tell me twice about how you wait for me at home, i’m well aware of that. complain all you want about me but your words aren’t consistent with your actions, my love.” you slide your hand down his arm to reach for his hand as you lean your head on his shoulder.

you feel him tilt his face in the other direction. curious, you briefly lift your head for a moment to spot your pretty artificial lover gritting his teeth as a sheet of pink blankets his cheeks.

“fool,” he whispers, but there is no malice behind it.

[moni-logues]

Thirteen Rounds

Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut smut smut smut smut! sex ban smut lmao; established relationship

Summary: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right?

Word count: 13.2k

Content: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (f.), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sex toys, uh implied come eating? (It's not mentioned but he comes in her then eats her out sooooo it's happening 😂), cutesy nicknames that honestly even make me cringe these days lmaooo

A/N: as I said in a post earlier today, this hit 6k notes on the old blog and I know crowing about notes is tacky and no one cares (and even I don't care! That's not why I'm here!), but I never really got to celebrate this fic when I posted it and it took the fuck off. So here's to another 6k 🤪🤪🤪

FOUR WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook walks slowly, very slowly, down the corridor to the door of your apartment. He does not want to go through it. He really doesn’t want to have to tell you what he’s about to.

Four weeks no sex.

That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.

He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.

“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.

“Just tired? Training hard today?”

Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.

“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”

He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.

“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”

“WHAT?”

“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.

He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.

“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”

“I know!”

He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.

“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”

“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”

You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.

“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”

He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.

“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”

It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.

“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”

“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”

“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”

You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”

You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?

“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”

He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.

You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.

“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”

He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.

“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.

“But I’m so wet already.”

Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.

“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.

“FUCK.”

He brings his hands to his face and rubs.

“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”

You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.

When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.

“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”

Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.

He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.

“Jungkook, please.”

He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.

He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.

He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.

You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”

His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.

While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.

“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”

He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.

“I’m going to shower.”

He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.

“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”

He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.

When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.

He almost chokes on his indignation.

“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.

“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”

He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”

Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.

“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”

When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.

“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“

“I can put some clothes on?”

Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.

“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”

“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”

“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”

He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.

“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”

Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.

“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”

You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.

“Night night, my little custard cream.”

“Night night, my love.”

He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.

THREE WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.

At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.

Hence, Me Time.

Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.

You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.

You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.

You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.

You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.

Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.

The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.

“God, I’ve missed that noise.”

You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.

“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”

He shrugs.

“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”

“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”

You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.

He looks at the rabbit, appraising.

“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.

“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”

“Let me help you.”

You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.

“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”

The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.

“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”

He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.

“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.

“Wh-.. I...”

You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.

“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.

You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.

He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.

“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”

He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.

You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.

“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.

He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.

“What’s mine is yours, baby.”

“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”

“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”

Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.

“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.

“Don’t call me Jeon.”

“Isn’t it your name?”

He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.

“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”

His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.

“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”

You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.

“And me all ready for you...”

You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.

“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.

“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”

You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”

He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”

“Kookie... Please.”

You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.

“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.

“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.

You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.

TWO WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.

Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.

“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”

He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.

“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”

You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.

He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.

“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”

You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.

“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”

“No, of course it’s not!”

Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?

He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.

“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“

“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”

He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.

“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”

He is what?

He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.

You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.

He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.

Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.

It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”

He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.

You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.

He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.

You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.

“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”

You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.

Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.

“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.

“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“

“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.

“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.

He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.

You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.

“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.

You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.

“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.

“Anything.”

“Ice. And water.”

“Huh?”

“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.

“Ok…”

You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.

With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.

He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.

“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.

“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”

“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”

He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.

ONE WEEK TO GO

Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.

You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.

Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.

He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.

Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.

“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.

“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”

You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.

“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”

You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.

“In six days.”

Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.

“Now get the fuck out.”

You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.

Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.

He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.

He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.

“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”

“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”

“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”

He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.

He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.

You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.

It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.

These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.

FIGHT NIGHT

It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.

But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.

He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.

He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”

Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.

“Something is wrong: I miss you.”

“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”

He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”

“I know and whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”

“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”

“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”

“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”

He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.

“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”

“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”

“Yeah.

“Garibaldi?”

Jungkook laughs.

“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”

“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”

He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.

He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.

Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.

That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.

You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.

But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.

When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.

Jungkook is going to lose.

The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.

This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.

You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.

“8… 9… 10!”

The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.

Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.

“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”

He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.

He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.

He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.

The door opens and there you are.

“Fucking finally.”

Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.

“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”

“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.

Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.

“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.

“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”

He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.

“Shit.”

He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.

“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”

“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”

Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.

Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.

“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”

You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.

He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.

“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.

His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.

“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”

He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.

“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”

He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.

He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.

You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.

His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.

When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.

“You ok, my love?”

Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.

“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.

Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.

“Kookie.”

You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.

“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”

You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.

He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”

He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.

“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.

“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.

“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.

“I don’t have it,” you whimper.

“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”

And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.

“Jesus, fuck!”

He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.

Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.

He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.

“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.

You laugh and pat his shoulder.

“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”

“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”

“What title?”

The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.

When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“Both, I guess?” you answer.

He grins and shakes his head.

“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”

“What happened?”

“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”

“I fucking told you!”

“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”

“No more sex bans?”

“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”

“Good.”

You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.

“Speaking of never not having sex… Are you ready to go again?”

[soobnny]

classmate au | nishimura riki

❝ did you guys see that? i was the one who taught her how to do that!❞

heeseung | jay | jake | sunghoon | sunoo | jungwon | NI-KI

nishimura riki….

the absolute menace that this boy is

The Class Clown

being seatmates with him is probably the worst decision you have ever made

not bc of him and his jokes !!!!!

no he’s very funny actually

he makes you laugh all the time

he just ALWAYS whispers the wrong answer to you during oral recitation

and you ALWAYS fall for it

“what is the second stage of cell division?”

“meiosis,” he’d whisper so confidently

“m…meiosis?” you ask more to him bc u know he’s wrong but the teacher hears you anyway 😭😭😭

he is just SOOOOO !!!! unbearable

also btw he calls u by ur last name

the type to be close friends with all the teachers

he’d just casually reply to them in class (ofc in a respectful enough manner)

always makes the class laugh

he’s always doing some shit honestly like just don’t try to understand him atp

he likes to switch with the person seated behind you sometimes so he can sit beside a close friend but ALSO so he can play with your hair

ni-ki will just do ANYTHING .. put your hair in poor braids, put it in a ponytail ltrly anything

he has started his own hair salon behind you

tells you not to fix your hair for the rest of the day

so yes you end up sporting his poorly styled ponytail where some strands are sticking out

also the type to draw on your arm

in the case that he doesn’t switch with the person behind you, he’ll just start drawing on your arm

ANYTHING absolutely anything

hearts … maybe even a dick im sorry he is a Man and he will start giggling to himself when he draws it on your forearm

tbh u just let him do it

it’s bc he looks so cute … like he’s so focused on your arm while you’re focused on your teacher

during those class seminars, he is STILL seated next to you

but you guys don’t listen to the speaker most of the time

he’ll have the 8ball app loaded on his phone and you guys will just silently play billiards on his phone

changes ur contact name to “sucks at 8ball”

when it’s his turn to make a move, you try and pay attention to the speaker

but then he nudges your arm to signal that it’s your turn and he hands you his phone so you can make a move

BTW idk how to explain this but the seats r like those in the movie theaters

imagine …. your arms on the same arm rest … side by side …. touching

he is actually so slick with it

unlike jake, you’ll often find him at the volleyball court instead of the basketball court

you enjoy sitting at the sides too

ur friends like playing so sometimes they’d play against riki or on the same team as him and you’d just watch as u wait for ur sibling to get u from school

or until you can commute back home with your friends

sometimes you’d join too

BUT only after telling them you’re bad at the sport over and over and over again and them telling you it’s ok over and over and over again too

you finally join in and play volleyball with them with the reassurance that they’re just playing for fun !!!!!!

honestly it’s so much fun but Menace Riki loves to target the ball in ur direction

(it’s so you can play too since most of the time … the ball doesn’t go in ur direction so ure just awkwardly standing in ur position 🧍‍♀️)

the next day, this mf drags u out of class HIMSELF to the direction of the volleyball court and teaches you how to set

“okay, hands above ur forehead, okay? 😒” and u’re just trying to take his directions

he’d be soooooo annoying when you set a ball properly for the first time too

would ltrly turn to everyone in the court with his loud mouth and start praising you

“hey, did you guys see that?? i taught her how to do that !!! i’m her mentor”

ofc it becomes something about Him instead but it’s just cuz he can’t risk everyone knowing about his big fat crush on you

(sucks to be him bc everyone already knows like … have you seen the way he looks at you?)

he’s secretly so proud and plays volleyball with you to the side instead of playing an actual match

it’s to help you improve

bc he’s your self-proclaimed mentor 🥹

and when his friends drag him to play, he’ll insist you play too on the same team as him

you know how like .. one touch .. two touch .. volleyball is until three right?

ni-ki loves to set the ball or toss it to you so you can actually play too

your hype boy 😍😍😍😍

another funny story with this boy was when you and your friend were on your way to go home

and it started raining

ni-ki’s bff and ur bff r dating ok !!!

so naturally, his best friend leaves his side to shade his gf (ur bff) with an umbrella

now u’re left behind with riki

u do NOT expect him to grab his umbrella, open it up, and tell you to start walking with u

shields you so now you’re following behind ur dating bffs

honestly it’s actually kind of a cute memory

sharing an umbrella .. so romantic 🥰

ofc ur friends tease u !!! those who witnessed it happen and when u and ur friend r safely sheltered from the rain,, riki’s bff starts pushing him and teasing him for finally making a move

the direction ni-ki needs to go to isn’t even where he had walked u to but he still did it so you wouldn’t get sick

ANYWAYS he’s the teasing to get ur attention when he has a crush type so

good luck

expect him to always be up in your business and calling your name out

just embarrassing you in all possible ways

ALL GOOD INTENTIONS i swear

he’s just bad at expressing his feelings

u guys r just an old married couple bickering in class sometimes

your classmates start making bets on when you two will finally start dating

when he finally asks you out, his cocky teasing behavior is just thrown out the window

he stutters and scratches the back of his head and looks anywhere but to you

indirectly asks you out

“wanna eat um street foods after class?”

“who’s coming with,” you’d ask

“JUST ME… just me. just us…”

ltrly something as simple as that has him blushing all over 😭

he has no problem embarrassing u and drawing dicks on ur arms and calling ur name in the hallway and throwing an arm around ur shoulder

but the moment he asks u to eat out with him ?? even just for street food ?? bye he’s so shy and nervous

it’s SOOOO unlike him

“oh, sure!”

his eyes would light up please stop

then his cocky behavior would come back a little .. just enough to be tsundere as he is

“okay… don’t think i wanna hangout with you alone or anything. it’s just a treat for properly setting last time we played vb”

likeeee no one believes you ni-ki

the last time u played vb was like two weeks ago so why r u suddenly treating NOW

it’s actually so cute when u start dating

he has such a Soft Spot for u

LOVES annoying u but is secretly so doting like please

i hate happy couples !!!!!!!!!

i hope u guys r HAPPY <3

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[mattitties]

welcome to paradise - matt sturniolo

drummer!matt is my new favorite matt.

smutty af 😘

I walk down the hallway towards my boyfriend Matt’s room, hearing the familiar sound of drumming. I can’t quite recognize the song today, but it does sound a bit reminiscent of “Welcome to Paradise” by Green Day. I open the door ever so slightly and poke my head in. His drum kit faces the wall, so he’s completely turned away from me, and he has his headset on as he pounds onto the kit.

He’s not one to enjoy having an audience when he drums, but he’s more used to me watching him now, so I close the door quietly, tiptoe to his bed, and sit down to watch the rest of the song. 

Matt is obviously attractive, anyone with eyes can see that, but when he drums, he only gets hotter. The amount of passion and energy he puts into it, the way his hair gets all messy as he starts to sweat and his cheeks get flushed, the way his fingers hold the drumsticks; there’s nothing that turns me on more than watching him drum.

I’m lost in my own world thinking about him that my eyes glaze over, stuck on him. I don’t even realize when he finishes the song and turns around and sees me.

“Babeeee?” he calls out, finally catching my attention. “You get lost in your thoughts over there?”

I blush and nod. “Yeah, a little. Sorry.”

He comes over to the bed and lays on top of me, giving me small kisses on my cheeks and lips. “When did you get here?”

“Just a minute ago. Was that Welcome to Paradise?” I ask.

His face lights up. “Yeah!! Oh my God, I can’t believe you recognized it. I thought I was getting it all wrong.”

“Of course I did! You don’t give yourself enough credit, baby, you’re really fucking good.”

“Well I just learned that song this morning so…” he shrugs before kissing me deeper. “You like watching me play?”

“Mhm,” I say into his lips. “It’s sooooo hot. Gets me all worked up.”

“Yeah?” he asks teasingly. I’m about to slip my tongue into his mouth when he gets up. 

“Ay! Come back!” I say.

“No, no, it’s fine, come here a sec.” He sits back on his drumming stool and motions me to come over, so I get up and stand next to him. He looks up at me, then at his lap, then me again. “Sit.”

“Like, facing you, or…?” 

He grabs my hips and sets me down on his lap so I’m straddling him. “I’m gonna start to play a song, and every time you guess correctly you get a kiss. And maybe I take off my shirt or something,” he smirks.

“Okay, okay. I’m ready,” I tell him excitedly.

He starts drumming a song, and I know immediately what it is. 

“Come Together, but that was too easy. Make them harder!” I say, smiling when he pulls me in for a kiss.

“Well I want to kiss you, so no, they’re gonna stay easy. Next!” He starts drumming again, and this one takes me a little longer.

“Ummmm…” I listen for a few more seconds. “Oh! Walk This Way!”

“Good job!” He kisses me again. This goes on for a few more songs, but each kiss gets longer and deeper, and we both get needier. By the 6th song I guess, I’m ready to jump his bones, so when he kisses me again, I wrap my arms around his neck and move my hips. I’m already sat directly on his crotch, so my movements aren’t missed by him.

He sets the drumsticks down without opening his eyes and grabs my ass with both hands, helping me grind more. 

We’re breathing heavier into each other, subtly whining and groaning every so often. I’m getting wetter by the second, and he’s rock hard. 

“Matt,” I whine. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. “You wanna ride me baby? Right here?”

“Uh huh,” I say, lifting up for a second so I can pull my skirt up and push my underwear to the side. As I’m doing this, he pulls his dick out of his sweatpants and briefs, jerking it a few times to spread his precum down. I’m about to sink back down, but instead I get on my knees on the floor in front of him.

I lick a stripe up his shaft as my thumb runs over his slit. 

“Ohhhh, fuck baby,” he groans, collecting my hair into a loose ponytail. 

I moan as I take him in my mouth, swirling my tongue and sucking just his tip at first, then getting lower and lower each time I come back. His stomach is heaving as he hits the back of my throat. 

“Baby- fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

My eyes are watering as I look up at him, feeling his cock twitch in my mouth. I pull off of him and stand up, taking my underwear off completely. His dick is throbbing, leaking, and red, and he groans at the loss of contact.

“Poor baby,” I say. “Thought you were gonna cum in my mouth?”

I don’t give him any time to respond before I straddle him again and sink down, completely bottoming out on him as we gasp together.

“Ohhh, that’s it, baby girl,” he mumbles. “Mmmmm, so fucking tight for me.”

I nod and stay still for a moment, putting my head in his neck as I let myself adjust to his size.

“You okay baby?” he asks.

“Mhm.” I begin moving my hips rhythmically, and he runs his hands, calloused from the drumsticks, up my back, lifting my shirt off in the process. 

His eyes light up the second he sees I’m not wearing a bra, and he immediately dips his head and starts sucking on my right nipple, rolling my left between his thumb and index finger. 

“So perfect, angel,” he talks into my skin, his tongue lapping at my nipple.

I moan at the contact and run my fingers into his long hair, somewhat damp and curly from the sweat of him drumming, as I start to bounce on his lap. 

He groans in pleasure. “Yeah baby. Ride my cock just like that.” 

All I can do is moan and whine, the sounds of our thighs slapping filling the room as I come down harder and harder with each thrust. He’s holding my ass with one hand and my hip with the other, thrusting his hips up to meet mine.

He’s filling me up so deep that I can’t focus on anything else. He tries to kiss me, but I can’t even align my lips with his, so he opts for sucking and kissing my neck instead.

“Fuck,” I whine. “I’m gonna cum, oh god.”

“Yeah? So am I. Gonna fill you up and watch it drip out of you after, got it?”

I nod in response as I feel myself get closer and closer to my end. I’m moaning with every thrust, and before I can stop myself, I’m clenching around him, crying out in pleasure into his neck.

“Mmmmmm, fuck, gonna cum inside you angel,” he mutters.

He’s pounding up into me like a wild animal, squeezing my hips as I feel his dick twitch inside of me. 

He slows down, wrapping his arms tightly around me. We sit there for a few moments, just breathing each other in. 

“You really like me drumming, huh?” he says into my neck.

“Uh huh,” I reply. “It’s so fucking hot.”

He pulls his head back and kisses me, deep and hard. “I’ll drum for you every fuckin day if this is the kind of treatment I get from it.”

I laugh and slowly stand up, both of us hissing at the loss of contact. He stares at my pussy, still clenching and leaking our cum down my thighs, then touches me lightly to collect it all before sucking it off his fingers. 

I lean down and give him a soft kiss, enveloping his tongue, then pull my underwear back on as he puts his dick back in his own underwear.

“Come sit back down, I’ll teach you how to play something.”

[moonseonghwa]

Rewind - Choi San

You and San had always been close, and when you joined him to his usual friday night parties, your view of your best friend seemed to have changed more than you’d like.

word count: 3k

warnings: bestfriend!san, unprotected sex (boooo), hickeys, choking (slightly), creampie

a/n: i’ve been sooooo busy but i’ll update cruel summer in a few days! also not proofread so excuse my mistakes

ateez masterlist

Your detectable boredom hung in the air around you, cutting through the intense smell of liquors and marijuana. Three things you wish were easier to ignore. You were standing in the corner, with a red-colored cup in your left hand as you debated on just leaving right now. Your friend was here, somewhere in the huge house, and you were waiting for him to finish whatever he was doing just so you could finally go home. 

Honestly, you were never one to enjoy parties, always declining politely and saying you had other things to do. You didn’t mind telling your best friend ‘no’ over and over again whenever he begged you to come with him. Which explains the surprised face this morning when you told him you’d join today. 

You were here because you heard Mingi would come. A person you’ve been eyeing for a long time, but never had the confidence to talk to. These sorts of parties make those kinds of things much easier. The conversation will flow, and alcohol courage will keep it going. You thought you would see him tonight, but he never showed up, which explains your wish to leave. And to be very honest you wouldn’t stay here any longer even if he did show up. 

You finally noticed San, your best friend, on the dance floor, his hands wrapped around a random girl’s waist as she was saying something in his ear. He was laughing, making you roll your eyes. It wasn’t anything new to you. He has taken multiple girls to your shared apartment, resulting you in sleeping with earphones every time he did because of the clear moans resonating through the thin walls. 

He was for sure making them feel good though, and sometimes, you would think about wanting to be in their place for once, before shrugging away that thought immediately. He was your best friend, and roommate, so there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.

You watched him for another moment before deciding to leave, not wanting to go back home with him and the plus-one whose voice would be heard the rest of the night. 

San, on the contrary, was constantly thinking about you. He knew about your little crush and figured you were somewhere too lost in Mingi’s kisses to come and talk to him. He was excited to hear you were coming to the party, finally joining him in what felt like ages, but when he heard Mingi was coming, he got the message and left you alone for the night. 

However, when he noticed your dress in the corner of his eyes, he followed your form to the entrance, immediately breaking away from the girl as he followed you. He pushed the bodies in front of him out of the way, trying to keep up with you and your fast tempo. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ He yelled after you when he caught up to you outside, making you turn around, surprised to see him jogging towards you. 

‘’I thought you were leaving with that girl, so I was heading back already’’ You said, planting your hands in the pockets of the leather jacket you borrowed from San, the jacket he thinks is way too big on you. He just can’t deny how good it looks on you, his clothes, claiming you as his in some way. 

‘’I wouldn’t leave with someone else when I took you to this party, I thought you were with Mingi’’ He said, starting to walk towards the direction of your shared apartment, making speed up to walk with him. 

‘’Didn’t show up’’ 

‘’You’re too good for him anyway’’ He muttered, clear enough for you to hear as you let out a chuckle. 

‘’You seemed to be enjoying yourself out there’’ You said, changing the subject so he wouldn’t make your heart flutter like that again. 

Because he looked absolutely gorgeous right now, the light sweater accentuating his toned shoulders while his hair fell loosely on his forehead, a smirk plastered on his face at your comment. The dimly lit streetlights illuminating his face. His steps matched yours, while he subconsciously made them smaller so he would be at the same pace as you. 

‘’She wasn’t interesting’’ He simply said, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the road in front of him. The sound of your steps on the concrete could be heard on the quiet road, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of yourself that you were the one San was taking home at the end of the day. 

You just hummed, closing your jacket a bit more at the night breeze, before he threw his arm around you, his body warmth warming you up more. Your heart tightened, a reaction you didn’t see coming at the small move he has done multiple times before. 

You continued the comfortable silent walk until you were in front of your door, entering the code as you felt San’s body dangerously close to yours, his hand ghosting your side. When you got inside, you immediately made a beeline for the couch, dropping your exhausted body on it as San chuckled at you. 

‘’Let’s go to sleep’’ He grabbed your arm, lifting you from the couch easily as your body crashed against his, his hand on your waist supporting you before guiding you towards his room. You kept walking to your own room though, but the hand on your wrist stopped you. ‘’Stay with me’’ He said, making your eyes widen. 

‘’Why?’’ 

‘’You sleep in my bed most of the time, why not today?’’

Because I want to kiss you so bad, it’s killing me.

‘’Because I just want to watch my drama a bit more’’ You lied through your teeth, not daring to tell him the actual reason. Because you don’t trust yourself right now with the drinks you’ve had tonight. 

‘’Just stay with me tonight’’ He almost begged, making your insides twist at the thought of sharing a bed with him right now. 

You don’t know what switched inside you tonight, but you were constantly thinking about San, a problem you usually never have. You thought it could be the way none of the men inside the frat house interested you, thinking about how much better San would be at something, or how San wouldn’t make you uncomfortable when he touches your sides when the other guys did. 

The interior of his room reflected his personality. Black and white themed, not too much but still detailed with the paintings he hung on his wall. He was neat, neater than any boy of your age that you’ve seen the rooms of. 

Before you knew it, you were in his bed, wearing his t-shirt as he stayed a fair distance away from you, but not far enough to keep the countless thoughts about him out of your mind, and if it wasn’t for your tiredness, you wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep this quickly. 

That tiredness slipped away when you woke up a few moments later. San’s hand was wrapped around your waist, splayed out on your bare stomach while his crotch pressed against your ass. His mouth was so close to your ear that you could feel his pillowy lips against the side of your neck. You had to bite back a whimper when he pulled you closer, the friction making you realize just how turned on you were by the feeling of his hands on you. 

It was bad, you knew it, so you tried to fall back asleep. You shifted, trying to get out of his tight grip as he only pulled you closer, a groan leaving his mouth which went straight to your core. It took a couple more minutes of shifting before you felt yourself growing more and more frustrated. 

‘’Sannie’’ You whispered, looking back to see his eyes flutter open.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ His raspy voice spoke, lips so close to yours, you could feel his breathing against them. 

‘’You’re too close’’ You said, voice weak and shaky. 

‘’Hmm? You don’t want me close?’’ He teased, his hand rubbing your stomach softly. 

‘’I do, but it’s dangerous’’ 

‘’And what if that’s exactly what I’m looking for’’ He said, moving his body which resulted in him  hovering over you as he moved your hair out of your face. You didn’t dare to say anything, afraid of what might come out of your mouth. ‘’Tell me,’’ His head moved to your neck, placing his lips against your collarbone, ‘’You really want me to stop?’’ he placed another kiss, making your breath hitch as you struggled to keep yourself from moaning. 

‘’Cat’s got your tongue?’’ He chuckled, a side of San you’ve never experienced showing. His own cat-like eyes look at you with that gaze you recognize. As if he’s telling you he’s got you right where he wants you to be. 

‘’I’m going to get some water’’ You said, shoving yourself out of his grip before stumbling towards the door. You didn’t know why you wanted to get away, but you were so scared of finally showing yourself to San. The confidence you always had slipping away when he was so close to kissing you. You filled your glass with cold water before gulping it all away in one go. Your hands leaned against the counter, contemplating what you were going to do now. 

The door of San’s room opened, revealing him as he walked towards you with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, exposing his extremely well-toned torso clad in his workout compression shirt. There was a smirk on his face as he approached you. He grabbed your glass before filling it up with water himself and taking a small sip. 

‘’You good?’’ He asked, trying not to smile at your flushed red face. You were trying to play it cool, looking at him with those eyes of yours, but he noticed your foot tapping on the ground, indicating how nervous you seemed to be. 

‘’Fine’’ You hated how weak your voice sounded. 

He laughed, placing the glass on the counter. ‘’Why are you nervous?’’ His voice was still raspy. He moved a bit closer, feeling his body heat against your skin as he leaned towards your ear, ‘’Do I make you nervous?’’ He asked. 

‘’You do’’ You said before doing something you will probably regret tomorrow, but those worries were for tomorrow only. 

You crashed your lips on his, catching him off guard as he smiled in the kiss. His hands pulled your hips closer to his, making you groan as he sucked on your lower lip before entering his tongue in your mouth. You felt every part of your body on fire, something you haven’t felt in such a long time. 

Your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling it back, eliciting a deep grunt from him. His hands went to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to sit on the counter as he went between them, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, so lost in the feeling of his lips on yours. He was slow with you, fingers rubbing your thigh and leaving the skin burning with pleasure.

He took you in his arms, walking you to his room again as he dropped you back on the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist. He sat back, pulling off his shirt as you did the same with yours, revealing a dark purple lace bralette. His favorite color. 

‘’Did you wear this one for me, hm?’’ He teased, placing his lips underneath your ear, making you sigh in pleasure as you nodded, not daring to tell him you were thinking about him when you bought it.

He kissed you again, his hand around your waist making you arch your back against his torso, feeling his way bigger body against you as it caged you between him and the soft mattress.

He had imagined this before, whenever he brought a girl over, he would think about the sounds you would make if you were in her position and the way your soft skin would feel against his.

‘’You’re so hot, can’t believe we didn’t do this earlier’’ He muttered, breaking away from the kiss as he kissed the top of your breasts while fumbling with the edge of your panties, your breath coming out staggered by his movements. ‘’Always imagined it’s you whenever I bring a girl over’’

Now that was a comment you didn’t expect, and one that made your panties ever wetter in just a few seconds. 

‘’Please just fuck me already’’ You whined, growing needy and just wanting to feel him deep inside you. He tutted at you, his hand moving away from your panties. 

‘’We’re going to do this my way, and I’m going to take my time’’ He said, ‘’Want to see all of you’’ He added, kissing down the valley of your breasts and opening your legs with his knee. 

You bit your lip, his lips coming close to where you needed them the most. You looked down at the view, his head between your thighs, a view you would probably never forget. 

San felt the same way, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips, your small breaths and whimpers music to his ears as he teased you slowly because he never wanted this moment to end. It felt like a dream. His lips went back to your stomach, kissing their way up to your lips again. 

‘’Can I take these off?’’ He whispered, pulling your panties down when you nodded, exposing yourself to him. His hands then went to your waist, lifting you up as his fingers undid the clip of your bra. 

He gawked at you, making you hide your body with your arms as his hands grabbed your wrists. ‘’Don’t hide’’ He pushed you back down against the bed, this time pulling off his own trousers and boxers, leaving him naked in front of you as he smiled at you, making butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

‘’Do you want to do this? 

‘’Yes’’ You whined, high on the feeling of what was about to happen. 

San entered two fingers, making you throw your head back in delight. Your hand came up next to your head as you held onto the pillow tightly, pleasure erupting in your body as he held your hips in place with his other hand. His fingers went up to your clit, rubbing it slowly as you moaned his name over and over. 

‘’Please San, I need you inside’’ You said, pulling him towards you for a kiss as he smiled at your needy state. 

‘’Yeah, need my dick?’’ He said in a cocky tone, wanting to see you beg for it. 

‘’Yeah- need it now, please’’ You said, the feeling of his fingers driving you near the edge. 

“Condom?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

“I’m on birth control” You assured.

However San didn’t tell you that you were the only one he asked, but because it was you, he couldn’t help but want to feel you. All of you.

His hand went around your throat, holding it softly while he locked his eyes with yours, his fingers leaving you as you felt his tip enter you. He pressed a bit harder on the sides of your throat, making you moan out of bliss as you felt his hips meet yours. 

‘’So good, baby, all mine’’ He whimpered at the pleasure, slowly pulling out, then pushing in with the same speed. You felt the drag of his cock inside your walls, feeling every vein and rolling your eyes back when he pulled out again. 

He kept the slow pace, fucking you deeper every time. His hands were all over your body, gentle touches keeping you close to him. You were seeing stars, lost in the pleasure and his lips on the side of your neck. 

‘’Mingi could never fuck you like this’’ He said, sucking and creating marks to show off to others that you were his now. ‘’Hm? Would he fuck you better?’’

‘’No, he can’t’’ He sped up at your answer. His hand went to your clit, rubbing circles, getting you closer and closer to your high. Your nails were digging into his neck, his hand placed on your hip, holding you in place as his hips snapped deeper inside of you. His groans went straight in your ear, his deep raspy voice like music. He grabbed your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder as the angle made you see stars.

‘’Gonna- ah’’ You mumbled, not able to form a proper sentence. ‘’Gonna cum’’ You moaned, watching the way he slid inside you easily as you threw your head back, the high taking over. Your brows were knitted together as you came, making it hard for him to last any longer. 

‘’Good girl’’ He praised, stroking your sweaty hair out of your face as he pounded deeper inside of you. ‘’Where do you want me to cum?’’ 

‘’Inside, please, fill me up San’’ You stammered. ‘’Need it, need it so bad’’

He stilled inside you at your words, before releasing his load deep inside you, groaning as his head was buried in the crook of your neck. You stayed like that with him for a while, until he pulled out, kissing your cheek softly.

‘’Are you okay?’’ He asked, making you nod with a smile.

He got up, threw on sweatpants as you closed your eyes, still in bliss, before you felt a wet cloth between your legs, San cleaning you up before handing you his shirt. He dropped beside you, pulling you to his chest. 

‘’We should do this more often’’ You chuckled, making him smile against the top of your head. 

‘’Like a regular thing?’’ 

‘’I mean, if you want to?’’ You mumbled, suggesting friends with benefits with San was something you never thought you would do. 

‘’I definitely want to’’ He chuckled, lifting your head and placing a kiss on your lips before you snuggled a bit closer. 

[headkiss]

I LOVE YOUR HOTCH FICS!!! <3 You write him so well, and I just adore how soft he is 🥺! I've read a fic where the author basically describes him as a Jane Austen hero, and I can't help but agree (what are you thoughts?)! Sooooo, is it possible to get a fic where Hotch reads to sick!reader to help her sleep? TYSM!

omg ur so right he is very much jane austen coded!!! tysm for requesting i hope u like it!!! | 0.7k of fluff, sick reader and gentle hotch <3

Aaron’s job isn’t one that allows him to take much time off of work, even when he wants to. You know it, and would never be angry at him for it, so when you wake up feeling a little too warm, you reassure him that you’ll be fine by yourself.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He asks, already dressed in his suit and sitting on the edge of the bed by your waist. “I can if you want me to.”

Of course the only time he’d be eager to ask for a day off is when it’s in your favor. He doesn’t even call out when he’s the one who’s sick.

“No, you can’t, Aaron. They need you over there,” you say, hoping your smile is convincing enough. “I’m just gonna sleep this off. I’ll be fine.”

He sighs, reluctant to leave even though he sort of has to, even though he knows you can take care of yourself. He just hates not being the one to do so, anyways.

Hotch leans over to press a kiss to your heated cheek, “I’ll call you when I can to check in, okay?”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Let me do that, at least, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

He kisses your cheek again and then stands to leave, pausing at the bedroom doorway to turn back and look at you one more time. You snake your hand out from under the sheets and give him a thumbs up.

Aaron calls you exactly five times throughout the day, most of them quick, couple-minute phone calls where he asks how you’re doing, if you’ve eaten. One of them during his lunch—which he rarely takes—and lasting nearly half an hour, him doing most of the talking.

The sun is close to setting by the time he gets home, where Aaron finds you curled up on the couch in the comforter from your bed, your skin clammy, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead.

His heart aches a little bit at the sight, because he knows you’ve been downplaying how sick you feel all day to keep him from worrying, as if anything could.

Hotch walks over to the couch, crouching in front of where your head is propped up on a pillow. “Sweetheart.”

“Hi, Aaron.”

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, frowning at how warm you feel. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a fever? You should be in bed.”

“Got too warm in there, then too cold out here, so I took the comforter. Hope that’s okay.”

The medicine you took hours ago hasn’t done much other than make you a little groggy, and it’s clear in the way you speak with your cheek still squished to the pillow, your eyelids heavy.

Aaron’s hand is still on your forehead, like he can will your fever away with his touch. “Have you slept? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, “don’t really feel like eating.”

“You should,” he says. “How about I run you a bath and make you some soup? Then bed.”

“Okay, doctor Hotchner.”

He shakes his head, though the small smile on your face as you tease him makes him smile, too. Even feeling poorly, you manage to brighten his day. A ray of sunshine.

He does exactly as promised, and after a bath and a generous bowl of soup that Hotch made sure you finished, you’ve got your head in his lap, his hand gently pushing your hair back.

Looking down, Aaron finds you still awake, blinking up at him lazily. “Aren’t you tired?”

“It’s been hard to sleep,” you say, fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Will you read to me?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Pick a book.”

You choose, and whine when he gets up to go get it even though he’s back in a matter of seconds. With your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh once again, he starts reading to you.

You’ve always loved Aaron’s voice, the way it sounds when he speaks to you, the low and calm tone that seems to wash over you. He’s using a gentle voice now, a quiet one that you love even more because it’s one he saves for you. Intimate and lovely.

It’s only with his hand in your hair and his voice in your ears that you’re finally able to fall asleep.

[urrsstrully]

park gunwook with a younger s/o

zerobaseone park gunwook x younger!reader genre : fluff, a very tooth rotting fluff word count : 760 warning : too fluffy, so much usage of petname (baby), usage of “oppa”, some of you might find this cringy but it’s my style of writing so please don’t judge 🥹🫶🏻 a/n : this man live in my head rent free and i just have a lot of thoughts of him dating a younger s/o (also because i just love boys whos older than me so i made this). this is for all of the gunwook stan whos younger than him <3 reader is around 1-2 years younger than gunwook !

DEFINITELY GONNA BABY YOU MOST OF THE TIME. just like how he saw yujin, he just wants to protect you and offer you all the best efforts he could provide.

he finds all the things that you do endearing and it makes him love you even more. PARTICULARLY, if you’re the shy type who gets flustered so easily.

he would unleash his flirty side even more. He ADORES seeing you flustered; there’s simply no way to escape from his flirtatious behavior. Sometimes, he'll put his hand on top of your head and ruffle your hair or gently pat your head. Or he might suddenly bring his face close to yours, maintaining eye contact until you can’t handle it anymore.

his heart wouldn’t take it anymore and wants you in his pocket immediately so that he can bring you anywhere he goes. “could you stop being such a cutie, cuz i can’t handle it.”

even when you’re smiling and giggling, he feels like his heart is about to burst. “please stop that bright smile of yours, baby. i might faint because of your cuteness right now.”

he would let out his protective side even more. of course, because you’re his baby and he needs to protect you.

you got hurt? he’ll be panicking and acts on it immediately, even if it’s just a slight cut on your finger, he’ll be treating you like a wounded soldier. you’re suddenly crying? he’ll give his shoulder for you to lean on.

he’ll be sooooo cuddly and clingy, all he need after a rough day is just your cuddle. prepared to be babied whenever you guys cuddle cuz this man LOVES babying you and he just can’t help it.

it’s definitely the popular senior x junior type of trope between the two of you. you’ll be the luckiest junior to be with him, cuz who wouldn’t want to have a boyfriend like gunwook.

ALSO, you got to know him because you had the chance to be a part of the student council, with him being the vice president of the student council at that time.

he always got his eyes on you whenever there’s some opportunity of you two working together in school. he always finds an excuse to be beside you and some other student council members might actually notice the change in his behavior whenever you’re near him.

you’ll probably got to be the most talked-about junior among the seniors because how close you are to gunwook and how sweet gunwook’s gestures are towards you.

but because of the csat, he got too focused on it and became a bit distance with you. HOWEVER, after the test and all of the final exams were done, he finally had the courage to talk to you seriously about his feelings.

it’s a bit sad that you guys established the relationship when he’s already on his way to graduating.

BUT DON’T WORRY, cuz after he graduated, he will be your own private lesson teacher. he’ll always be there when you need to finish your homework and whenever there’s a quiz or test coming up, he’ll be there to help you with the materials.

there have been a few times where he actually asked if you had a test or quiz upcoming. “do you have any tests coming this week? if so, don’t be bother to tell me, alright?”

he’ll be worried too if you overworked yourself. he’ll ne the one who always remind you to take a rest and eat properly.

“school isn’t everything, baby. you don’t need to overwork yourself okay? you need time to rest too.”

if you had a rough time at school, your escape would be him. spending time with him would let go all of the burden on your shoulders. ESPECIALLY, you could burry your face onto his broad chest and rant about what happened in your school.

aside from all of the school stuff, he’s just going to be the best boyfriend ever. with the best effort and he wants to be the best for you and you’ll always tell him that he’s just the best.

one thing that definitely gonna fluster him is when you occasionally call him oppa.

“oppa, can you help me with this..” “okay… oppa will help you with it”

his face will be full of the most lovesick, cheeky, and cocky expression ever. he just can’t hide his wide smile anymore and definitely gonna remember it for the rest of the day.

“call me that even more, please.”

IN CONCLUSION, THIS MAN IS THE BEST BOYFRIEND EVER.

©️urrsstrully.2024.copyright

[leclsrc]

yayyy ok thot time

can’t stop thinking ab charles and choking. like guiding his hand to your neck while you’re making out and he’s tentative at first, just resting it there and squeezing slightly, but later that night you do it again while he’s fucking you and you beg him to choke you and he gives in… and he realizesthe way your moans come out with his hand around your neck is sooooo pretty

oh def.... nsfw under the cut!

he tries to hide that he likes it too but it’s hard. it starts out innocently enough too… you’re squirming on his lap because someoneee insisted he could squeeze in a quickie before a meeting and he has to keep you still somehow, so he anchors a hand by your jaw, just close enough that your breath hitches and you freeze a little and he notices. but the meeting happens eventually and he makes up for it later, already smiling and lifting you up to hear you squeal after he budges the hotel room door open.

it’s even harder for him to hide how much he loves watching you struggle to take all of him, which always happens when you haven’t been fucked in a while. it’s thick and stretches you out, and when he’s finally buried all the way in you it always feels like he’s in your stomach, all the way in there. your brows are screwed together, you’re nodding, yea baby i’m good, i’m good, and god you’re precious. you tip your head backward and find his sweaty hand somewhere, guiding it up, up, up—

charles, you whine. his hand flexes where it rests at the base of your throat. you’re extra needy, bucking your hips upward to get more of him, charles. so spaced out you can barely even ask. he’s worked up just watching you go crazy for it, leaning down to bite at your neck. 

what is it? he tests, thrusting into you. a tear rolls down your cheek and he swipes it off with his thumb. tell me, baby.

charles, is all you manage.

want my hand there? he grunts, watches you nod, a pretty whine escaping your swollen lips. ask, baby—ask and i’ll give it to you. you end up asking and asking and charles would sooner die than fail to give and give and give.

[natailiatulls07]

The golden trio Pt 6

Lando Norris x female!reader

Carlos Sainz x female!reader

Max Verstappen & Female!reader & Charles Leclerc

Summary - Being bestfriends with two famous formula one drivers is never easy, but what will happen when you get involved with yet another formula one driver??

Warning - swearing, crying

A/n - 😌😋

The golden trio

-

Twitter

username It’s been five days since Lando was caught kissing that other chick and Y/n hasn’t posted ANYTHING!!

username He has sooooo fucked up mate it’s unbelievable and by the looks of it he hasn’t done anything to apologise yet 😖

username You know I don’t think anyone has seen her leave the apartment building either, like we know Max and Charles are around but they haven’t be looking all that happy

username Yeah cause someone who is practically their little sister has been hurt time and time again!! What do you expect?

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n leaving her apartment complex with both of her roommates, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Liked by username and 1,583 others

username Lando fucking Norris you are a fucking idiot 😒

username Oh mate, she looks devastated

username She can’t get a break!!

username Did you guys see Max and Charles though?! They were so annoyed

username I hope the chick is happy, she ruined a relationship 🙄

Max Fewtrell twitch live stream

Twitter

username Anybody watched Max Fewtrells twitch this evening?? Lando??

username You can tell he’s so guilty with himself!!

username Like he was so blunt!

username He had it coming, like you can’t go around kissing another girl whilst you’re in a relationship. It’s common sense.

Text (White: Reader) (Red: Carlos)

Hey, I heard about what happened with Lando I’m sorry

Yeah these things happen, it’s not your fault

Look I have a idea but you can back out if you want totally your choice

Ok?? Go on

So I’ve was thinking if we could date until Lando gets jealous

Oh right…

Please don’t feel like you have to do this tho

Sure I’ll do it, I don’t want to let him down easily

Perfect! So should we go on a date tomorrow night and make sure people see??

Yeah that’ll be a good idea, the gossip instagrams just love to post about me so it’ll spread fast

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n and Carlos Sainz, former McLaren teammate of Lando Norris, seen on what seems to be a date in Monte Carlo this evening. It has been a few days since Lando Norris, who seems to Y/n’s ex now, was seen kissing another girl.

Liked by yourusername and 3,263 others

username Mr Norris what will you do now??

username She really said get even bitch 😚

~~ Liked by yourusername

username Ooooo more gossip more gossip!!!

username Yk I would sell my kidney to see what is going on behind the closed doors 👀

username Y/n in her reputation era??

username Yk, Idk what to think??

Gossip Groupchat (White: Reader) (Blue: Max) (Red: Charles)

Hey Bee…

Yeah I’d everything ok?

No…

Um Lando is currently stood in our living room, pestering Charles on where you are…😬

Wtf!

Why? Ask him why he’s there!

Seen 2 minutes ago

Yk I don’t like the fact that it’s taking forever!

He is here to apologise, he feels horrible and I think he means it

Well tell him that I am busy and that he should consider this relationship done

Ok soooo he’s gone but

But…?

I don’t think he was very happy that you are completely blocking him out, more angry in my opinion

Look that’s his problem, you can’t go around kissing other girls whilst you’re in a relationship it’s common fucking sense

Ok, what time are you coming back tonight?

Around 9pm, Carlos has a flight in the morning

See you then Bee

Bye guys

Bye Bee

f1gossip

Since Y/n’s date this evening we have noticed that the former couple have both gone and unfollowed each other on instagram and other socials. Maybe the ship has really sailed away.

Liked username and 2,583 others

username Oh Shit!

username So that really does mean…

username No I can’t do this, nope not today 😭

username True love? Yeah no that doesn’t exist

username What do we do now?!?! 😰

username Friends to Lovers to Enemies 🥺

yourusername

But now you’re on your knees while I’m wrapped up in his sheets 😚

Tagged: carlossainz55

Liked by carlossainz55 and 75,925 others

username MISS GIRL!!!

username Karma really is a bitch!

carlossainz55 ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

= yourusername 😋😋😋

username Lando you know this is about you!!!

~~ Liked by yourusername

username Loving this whole thing!!!!!

username She moved onto a real man, not a little boy. Well deserved!

-

Tag list: @eviethetheatrefreak @janeholt3 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @namelesssav @amalialeclerc @eugene-emt-roe @skepvids @ravisinghs-wife @bellaturner @roseseraj

[notjustjavierpena]

Reunion - Part I

A/N: I have wanted to post this for a week now, expanding the dbf-universe a little more than it just being smut. It’s cliché-filled and lovely, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Summary: You're flying back to visit your parents (it’s Joel, you’re actually home for) after a month at college.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, sooooo much longing and love and fluff and teasing, Joel gets a blowjob, pet names, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, cuddles, reader’s dad is oblivious 

Word count: 6.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892244

Tonight

You feel giddy as you walk through the airport with your headphones on, your bag slung over your shoulder, and with a bounce in your step. Your feet’s movements have automatically adjusted to the beat of the song that’s playing in your ears, setting a late-summer soundtrack to your life as unimportant faces pass. 

It’s sunny and warm inside the glass building, and whilst you cannot wait to get outside into the colder weather, it’s actually because of your father’s work emergency that you are excited; Joel is picking you up instead.

Joel at 11:06 a.m.: I can’t wait to see you. -JM

Your eyes roam over the screen of your phone whilst you pass through the crowd, smiling in a way that would make your parents ask why. Who knew that Joel Miller could make you feel like summer was still at its peak? 

“There you are,” Joel says when you find his car in the enormous parking lot. He is leaning against the side of the vehicle, and you approach him whilst taking off your earphones to let them hang around your neck. 

When you are less than twenty feet from him, you stop walking and run the rest of the way. You close the distance between you by throwing your arms around him in a tight hug, a happy squeak leaving your mouth. He lets out an ompf-sound but embraces you when the car saves him from falling backward.

“Hey,” he says into your hair, noticing the volume of your music when he can hear it play through the speakers, “You hate your ears?”

You are too busy breathing him in, head swimming from the very first inhale of his cologne, “Hm?”

“Turn that music down,” he tells you. 

“God, stop sounding like my dad,” you groan and step back from him to do as you are told, “Fucking boner killer.”

“Don’t swear at me,” he warns but his tone tells you that the way he rolls his eyes at you afterward is more playful than impatient. He holds out his hand, “Bag.”

You stuff your headphones into the bag before giving it to Joel and watch him throw it into the backseat before circling the truck to hold the passenger door open for you. It feels stupid when your heart flutters at the sight of both of your bags lying side by side. 

“Thank you,” you smile politely as you crawl into the car, “Even if you just hurled my possessions into the car.” 

“Brat.”

You ogle him in the few moments it takes him to walk around the front of the car. He wears a green flannel shirt over one of his usual t-shirts, chest threatening to pop the buttons with how tight it is across his broad frame. A part of you hopes that he has dressed up for you, and the image of him fussing over his appearance in the mirror before leaving to pick you up is enough to make you smile goofily to yourself. 

“What?” He asks when he finally sits beside you, turning the key in the ignition. The truck comes alive. 

“Nothing,” you shrug, but then lean across the console center of the car. You reach up to cup his cheek and turn his head towards you, “You just look very handsome today.”

Then you kiss him softly on the mouth, seeking him out in the way that only you are allowed. He turns his body towards you, slides a hand around your back, and rests the other on the back of your neck. 

“Mhm, and you’re lookin’ pretty, princess,” he hums against your mouth.

You kiss for a while, intimate and soft. When you try to move closer and escalate things by nearly crawling into his lap, he grips the hair at the back of your neck and holds you in place.

“No,” he tells you and you whine in response.

The hand you have on his cheek slips down to rest on his shoulder, but only so you can reach down on his back and scratch affectionately between his shoulder blades, “Please. It’s been forever, and— and I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens as he restrains himself. He shakes his head, eyes only going down between your legs very briefly, “Promised your old man to feed you on the way back since he ain’t at home, and your mom’s gone out with her colleagues. Plus there’s no way I’m screwin' a girl twenty years my junior in my car… in a public place. Don’t care how busy it is here.”

You slip from his grasp and sit back into the passenger seat with a huff. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him adjust himself in his washed-out jeans, “When then?”

“Tonight,” he promises as he pulls out of the parking space, “Think of how good it’ll be after bein' worked up all day.” 

“If you can wait that long,” you sigh dramatically. 

Joel scoffs and then starts to drive. Your clit throbs during the whole duration of the car ride.

*

He eventually pulls into an IHOP parking lot after you’ve begged him since seeing the billboard a few miles earlier. It is better than one of the roadside diners and more crowded too which gives you a greater sense of privacy. 

You step out of the car, immediately met with the smell of sugary fried food. It makes your stomach growl, but still, and you’ll admit it, you are more excited to see what feast Joel will choose than you are about eating pancakes for lunch. 

“C’mon,” he says as you lose yourself to basking in the sunlight and listening to the cars driving by on the highway.

“Lemme just get my wallet.”

Joel makes a sound of disapproval, “Food’s on me. Get your ass in there.”

The restaurant looks less rundown than you’d expected, and the sweetness in the air hits you like a brick wall as soon as you step over the threshold of the entrance. People are chatting loudly whilst eating breakfast foods, somewhere a baby cries and you have to actively search for a free table.

You walk across the tiled floor which is meant to look like wooden boards, not able to see Joel but feeling his presence a few steps behind you. When someone walks in front of you, you hear him grumble and feel his hand on the small of your back. Your head swims, your stomach swirling at the warmth of his touch.

Unsurprisingly, this means that it ends up being him who finds an unoccupied corner for you, one that doesn’t have anything sticky on the blue cushions of the booth. He offers you the booth and takes the chair on the opposite side. 

You pick up the laminated paper menu from in front of you, studying it intensely. In the many years that you have known Joel, you have never actually been out with him where it’s just been the two of you because why would you? It makes butterflies fly around in your belly, fighting their way out until they are everywhere in your body. Especially between your legs when you see him scratch his beard whilst also looking for something to eat.

“This is our first date, you know,” you note and see Joel tense a little. You try to sound cool and indifferent whilst hiding behind the menu, “Are you nervous?”

“I’m usually always a lil’ nervous when I’m with a pretty girl,” he replies nonchalantly too, “But actually no. Even if she’s the prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You dare not open your mouth at that, scared that the butterflies might actually escape your body at this point and fly off into the air. You are hot in the face, resting the menu against your forehead to hide your face from him, “Shut up.”

“You started it.”

You peek over the top and are just about to say something when—

“Hi and welcome to IHOP!” A way too cheerful voice says and interrupts the tender moment. You slam the menu into the table a little too hard.

Both of you stare at the waitress, but Joel looks more like he has been offended by her bubbly attitude. She has a heavy southern twang. vibrant red lipstick and thick-framed glasses that suggest that she’s trying to go for something vintage and modern at the same time, “What can I getcha?”

Joel mumbles something about bacon and eggs along with the blackest coffee they have. The woman scribbles erratically on her notepad whilst complimenting his choice.

“And for your daughter?” She continues. Joel looks horrified, and you try to hide your giggle. 

“I’ll take your cupcake pancakes, please. And a strawberry shake,” you reply, “And hash browns for me and my dad to share.”

“Alrighty!” The waitress concludes, collects the menus, and turns to Joel, “And for you, I’ll be right there with your coffee, sir.”

Joel kicks you under the table as soon as she has left. You stick out your tongue at him, but he fixes you with a stern look, “Don’t fuckin’ do that.”

“Why? It’s just a joke,” you shrug and lean back into the booth, “Not like anyone knows us here.” 

It’s then that you realize that it probably has more to do with him than you; Joel probably feels like the comment was a slap in the face and a way of illustrating how fucked-up his relationship with you is. You find that you don’t actually care if the relationship is known to the whole IHOP, but with the way that Joel is looking away, you don’t dare to lean over and kiss his lips.

“Hey,” your voice is gentle as you place your hand on the table, palm facing up, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Joel curls his own hand around yours but still doesn’t say anything. His eyes are focused somewhere else as if he doesn’t dare to look back at you. You don’t think you dare see the wounded look on his face.

“This isn’t just fun ‘n games to me, you know. I mean, it may have started like that, but over the summer…” you try to fill the silence, background chatter fading from your ears as your pulse picks up, “I do mean it when I say I mi—“

“Stop,” he warns, eyes snapping back to yours and stealing your breath for a second, “We ain’t talking about that in a goddamn IHOP.”

“I feel like there’s no better place to do it,” you retort but he just shakes his head with a mix between a chuckle and a scoff. 

“Tonight,” he says just like earlier. 

When the food arrives, you eat in comfortable silence for the most part, and the conversation revolves around mundane things such as how you find the start of the semester and what projects he has coming up at work.

You barely give him reason to tut at you. You play nice and sweet, and make him laugh genuinely so you can admire the tiny lines around his eyes. He only makes a parental comment when you start to wolf down the plate of hash browns, and you respond by stuffing the last one into his mouth. It earns you a laugh that nearly sets your heart on fire with how rapidly it ticks.

*

He drives you all the way home afterward, and you dare to steal a kiss from him before exiting the car. You’ll be around later, you say, and he suggests picking you up, but you tell him you'd rather just take your bike and save him the gas money. He somewhat accepts. 

When you step inside your childhood home, you lean against the door with a giggle. Your cheeks burn as you cup them, staying like that for a minute whilst you try to calm your pounding heart. You run your fingers up and through your hair while sighing, “Shit.”

You think back to the first time Joel had fucked you in your bedroom. It had been rushed, intense, and frankly terrifying, but then it’d been good. More than good. The greatest, actually. It had opened something up inside your chest, provoked something between your thighs that you didn’t know existed. In return, Joel has become more gentle with you, softened under your touch every time you are together. You wonder if…

He still yanks your hair, reprimands you, and practically makes you feel like you’re on fire when he touches your pussy like no one has ever done before, but you could swear that he kisses you like you’re more than just fun.

You distract yourself with a shower, find yourself dipping the shower head between your legs for just a moment before shaking the thought. You’ll get what you want soon enough, no need to fantasize. Instead, you do the mind-numbing task of shaving your legs. 

Just before leaving for Joel’s, already sitting on your bike, you shoot your father a text. 

You at 6:55 p.m.: House is empty. Going out. 

Dad at 7:15 p.m.: I’ll be home in 2-3 hours. Did you eat dinner? -Dad

You at 7:17 p.m.: Yep, see u tomorrow :)

And then you start pedaling.

*

Joel opens his door with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside his home after making sure that no one is watching. You didn’t even know that you could pine for someone you already have. Yet here he is looking young, beautiful, and full of life when he is sneaking around with you, and you want him to kiss you silly. 

He reads your mind, closes the door quickly afterward, and doesn’t hesitate. He kisses your giggling mouth with the determination to follow up on your make-out session in the truck earlier. He has his arms around you, pushes you gently against the front door, and practically eats at your open mouth. It makes you sigh softly, your heartbeat racing and your skin prickling with electric excitement. 

“I’ve missed you,” you confess when you pull away from his lips to go down his neck with the same enthusiasm as a puppy who hasn’t seen their human in forever. Usually, Joel is the one who is eager to move on with less innocent things, but you have been in his company half the day without permission to touch him like this, so you are starving for him.

“We saw each other a few hours ago,” he argues, relaxing his grip on you as your tongue goes over a certain spot that has the ability to bring him to his knees. He groans quietly over your shoulder. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you whisper in his ear then descend to your knees right on his scratchy doormat. He rests his hand on your head and runs it over your hair with the gentleness of someone who has nothing to prove, shakes his head at your suggestion that’s hardly a suggestion. 

“Not here, your knees gonna hurt,” he insists. 

“Don’t care,” you say and mean it; you’ll take the rug burn. You don’t stop your hands from unbuckling his belt, looking up at him through your lashes with a devious smile on your face. He strains, half-hard, against the zipper, and when you pull it down he seems to give in completely. 

You yank his jeans down over his hips, and he starts helping you by stepping out of them until they lay forgotten on the floor behind you. As soon as you lay eyes on the outline of his cock, you run your palm over it from tip to base. A wet patch is already threatening to form on the front of his boxers with your simple touch, his length coming to full size as he swells completely underneath your hand. You can see the head starting to poke out from underneath the waistband, so you take pity on him and yank his underwear all the way down as well. They pool around his ankles until they end up in the same pile as Joel’s jeans. 

Your mouth is salivating at the sight of him fully hard after a good month without him. Joel is shaking in anticipation, his usual calm and collected facade crumbling.

You waste no time; your hand wraps around the base of Joel’s cock to guide the head to your mouth. The ache to taste him has settled between your legs, clit twitching as you let out the flat of your tongue, curling it around the underside of the head to lick along the frenulum. Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull, and Joel seems to enjoy it because you hear his head bump against the door. 

He moans and shudders above you, but he doesn’t yank at your hair like most stupid college boys would already have done because they’ve seen it on the internet. He takes his time with it, instead spreads his fingers over your scalp, scratches, and lets you move freely, “Ohh, you’ve been hungry for it, haven’t ya?”

You smile up at him, nod eagerly to earn praise, and then lick along the underside of the head again. You catch a droplet of precome with the tip of your tongue as you reach the slit, tasting the slight bitterness on him with a hum before repeating the move. 

“Mhmmm, that’s it, good girl,” he says breathily.

When you want to tease him a little more, you move to nose along the shaft until you can press a wet kiss by the base. He twitches a little in your fist. You start planting open-mouthed kisses all the way up to the head again, stroking him a few times after getting to the tip.

Your free hand skims up underneath his t-shirt, over the trail of hair that you sometimes bury your nose in whether it be during this sort of thing or just when you feel extra cuddly, mirroring the hand on your head and splaying across his soft stomach. Your nails scratch too, affectionately almost, and then you prepare yourself to take him into your mouth. 

Joel looks down as you stop, but groans as he sees you let a good amount of spit gather in your mouth. You let it drip down over the head. His stomach jumps underneath your palm, “Fuck, you are trouble, ain’t ya? Can’t wait to see that pretty mouth around my dick.”

You hum. A few kisses to the head, and then you slide your lips down over him. It is quite the stretch to fit him as far inside as you want in this insatiable state, but you are satisfied with your work when he chokes out a noise that you only thought you were capable of making. That weak croak is worth the ache that will eventually overtake your jaw.

Joel bucks his hips as soon as you encase him in the heat of your mouth. The fat head stabs at the back of your throat, causing you to gag and clench around him but he seems too far gone to even register its doing on you. You let him do it again, blinking rapidly to stop tears from spilling down your cheeks. 

Instinctively, his free hand wraps around the wrist of the hand you have on his stomach. He groans as you bob your head and make tiny noises that sometimes develop into wet gagging. 

When Joel’s hips start to move, you begin to feel the doormat underneath your jean-clad knees. He isn’t being particularly rough with you, but it’s his size that makes the tears, that you’ve blinked away successfully so far, spill from the corners of your eyes. He is so big, hot, and heavy on your tongue, and filling your belly with the sweetest ache for him to wear you out tonight. 

The other hand finally grips tightly, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You whimper as he tugs, fucking you onto his cock, and he nearly loses his mind as your throat squeezes around him with the sound. 

“Filthy, filthy girl,” he scorns as spit starts to dribble down your chin, continuous wet noises bouncing off the walls of the living room, “God… You’re gonna make me come down ya tight throat.”

Perhaps after he has fucked you, you think, and then barely shake your head. Joel notices though, slows down as he gets too close, dick twitching inside your mouth before he, albeit reluctantly, draws back out. His breathing is ragged, trying his hardest to calm down and stop himself from teetering around the edge. 

You swallow down the remainder of spit in your mouth and pull your hand out of Joel’s grip to wipe the back of it over your soaked chin, shiny with saliva and tears. Your eyes are red, your lips puffy, and your hair a mess. Your jaw hurts from the strain on it but despite this, it hurts more between your legs by now; the throbbing sensation has started to become uncomfortable, your clit desperate for friction and your cunt feeling so empty that it clenches again and again. You need to be filled right now, think you might die if he doesn’t shove his cock in you soon.

“Need you,” you say to break the silence and start to get up on your feet again. You want to cling to him, shed him of the rest of his clothes, and crawl under his skin to live there. You almost sob, “So bad, Daddy. Please please please.”

“Shh…” he coos, toeing off his socks and reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head, revealing his beautiful tan skin and the faint amount of hair on his chest. You reach out to run your nails through it, but he grabs both your wrists and starts taking off your top instead. 

“Let me touch you,” you whine but still let him undress you slowly, piece by piece of clothing ending up in the same spot on the floor. 

“Y’just touched me,” he says simply, reaching around you to undo your bra. He slides the straps down your arms, the cool air of the room hitting your chest and making your nipples harden. He hums in approval, “So fuckin’ pretty. Been too long.”

He cups your tits, pushes them together, drags his thumbs over your taut nipples, and then lets go when you’re just about to let out a moan. He looks as starved as you and he satisfies his hunger by kissing you with bruising force, his chest against yours to feel your breasts press against himself. 

You hoist yourself up and wrap your legs around his waist, his thick cock trapped between your stomachs. He groans at the friction with each step he takes towards the couch and you kiss the noise right off his tongue, sucking at the tip as a reminder of what you have done minutes earlier. 

When he reaches the destination, he drops you down onto the leather. Then he leans over you, one knee beside you to reach for the curtains to close them, and you almost give in to the urge of sucking him off again because he is so close. He seems to notice.

“Sit back, panties off,” he orders whilst making sure there are no gaps that anyone can peek inside of. 

You follow orders so quickly. He takes no time to tease either, sinks to his knees, yanks your ass further to the edge, and parts your legs until he can get in between them. Your hands rest on the back of your thighs, holding yourself open for him as he guides his cockhead inside of you.

The slight breach makes your breath hitch in your throat until it comes out in a wanton whine, walls already trying to pull him In further. Joel joins you with a guttural groan, staring down at your stretching cunt as he feeds it inch after inch. Usually, there’s some resistance, a pinch, but he bottoms out inside of you so quickly now that you’ve been wet since you saw him before lunch. 

You throw your head back against the back of the couch and let him have his way with you, feel him repeatedly pull out almost all the way until he slams right back in and sets a desperate pace. His hand rests on your mound so his thumb can circle your swollen clit, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so fucked out in mere minutes. 

Your breath catches, your pulse quickens, the first time he slides over your g-spot which he immediately notices with the way your pussy clenches in surprise pleasure. It makes him repeat the move, tilting his hips to ensure he won’t miss it with every crash of his pelvis into yours.

“Don’t stop, ah-ah! Joel!” You practically yell for him, digging your nails into the plump flesh of your thighs and triggering a growl from him. He cants his hips again so he can move forward and lean into you, still rubbing your clit with his thumb, but now also losing himself in a kiss that’s surprisingly soft compared to the crushing force of his thrusts. 

When he pulls back, his body needing the air through his mouth again if he is to continue fucking you like this, he rests his forehead against yours. His breaths are damp and exchanging with your own. Your eyes meet in a fiery gaze as filth starts pouring from his mouth. 

“I’mma fuckin’ wear this pussy out tonight, princess,” he tells you with a moan, speeding up the taut circles on your throbbing clit as if to make a demonstration of his next promise, “Make you come and come and - shit, that’s good - fuckin’ wring them out of you.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m gonna come right now,” your voice is frantic and your toes are starting to curl. 

“Fuck yes, you are, can feel it,” he pants, “Right on Daddy’s cock, just like he wants it.”

You come undone under his intense gaze with an orgasm that knocks the wind out of your chest to the point where your voice disappears, the only evidence remaining being the furrow of your brow and the open-mouthed yet silent ah. Joel can see it, sense it. 

When you come back to earth, greediness bubbles up in your chest. Despite your voice still being caught in your throat, you manage to croak out a wish, “Wanna get on top. Not finished.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans in unison with you as he pulls out of your oversensitive cunt. It doesn’t take long to switch positions, and with a steady grip on the backrest of the couch, you drag your wet heat across Joel’s painfully hard dick. It twitches against your cunt, and he whines when he holds it steady for you to sink down onto.

He fills you differently like this, goes deeper, and feels impossibly bigger. You give an experimental roll of your hips and Joel’s hands fly to your hips, his head falling backward and his body slumping into the seat. 

Your initial pace is slow but you want to move faster, yet your body is held in place by Joel’s hands having slid up to hold around your waist. He sets the pace just like before, pushing a little on your back to arch it just how you like to do it yourself. The tip of his cock pokes into your front wall, and the slow sensation of getting it to slide over your g-spot has you thrashing in his lap.

“Need ya to come without me touchin’ your pretty little clit,” he begs without saying please and then slides his thumbs down to rest below your belly button, “Missed it so much, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

He presses the two digits into your flesh, adding the amount of pressure that he has found out is just right by playing with you for hours during the summer. You keen, head lolling to the side and your jaw going slack, “Just like that, Daddy. I’m gonna come if you keep going like that!”

He allows you to ride him in earnest after that, bouncing in his lap and causing the front of his thighs to slap noisily up into your ass. Your whole body trembles at the force, building the pressure that you’ve come to know so well after Joel pulled himself together to fuck you that one day. 

“Fuck, you givin’ me another one already? Lucky Daddy,” he growls, still denting your belly with his thumbs. Your pulse is so incredibly fast, and your breaths are nothing but squeaks. 

You let out a high-pitched sound as your orgasm rolls through your body, electricity spreading out from your cunt to make your chest blush. You clamp down rhythmically on Joel’s cock and he nearly slides down onto the floor with the way that he melts under you. The thick head continues to ram into your g-spot to keep the second high going for as long as your body will allow, but whereas your voice was gone earlier, you force out a request.

With your hips not stilling, you lock eyes with him and give him a lazy smile, “Tell me when you’re about to come, Daddy.”

“Fuck, won’t be long,” he pants.

“Tell me when,” you repeat.

“N-now, princess!” 

You don’t warn him as you lift yourself up from his dick to slide down onto the floor, kneeling with a dirty smile. He catches on fast, swearing under his breath at the realization, and spreads his legs so you can settle between them. 

Quickly, you guide his cock to the far back of your mouth and suck him like he is a popsicle and it’s a hot summer’s day. He sure tastes good, arguably better than normally because he is coated in your sweet slick. The dramatic part of you would say that he tastes like sin. 

He hisses loudly above you, immediately yanking at your hair when you swallow him down enthusiastically. You make sure to hum so that your muscles clench around his length and the vibrations go down his shaft. 

You’re delusional with post-orgasmic pleasure as you bob your head, squeaking as Joel painfully pulls at your hair to the point where you can hear a few strands of hair pop off your scalp. He is so close, twitching in your mouth with every beat of his heart.

When you hollow your cheeks, he comes on your tongue with a loud groan. His hips stutter slightly but you expertly move with him so nothing spills, and so you can push it to the back of your mouth and swallow. 

You radiate pride as you pull off of his spit-slicked cock. He breathes heavily, utterly spent and relishing in it. 

“See? No mess to clean,” you rest your cheek against his knees as his cock softens. 

“Wow, clever girl,” he praises with the little energy he has left whilst you beam. He holds out his hand for you to take, “C’mere, baby.”

You don’t know how long the two of you lie down on the couch together, naked bodies completely entwined. Your back is pressed against Joel’s chest, and you are giggling as you talk about tedious date-like things that somehow feel like they’re the most interesting things in the world. You ask Joel about his favorite color to which he says that he doesn’t have one because he’s a grownass man. So you playfully roll your eyes and continue on to the topic of favorite songs, would-you-rathers, embarrassing habits…

Joel answers them reluctantly and shyly at first but then seems to relax into it when you answer your own questions with a laugh that has his heart beating so fast that you can feel it against your back. 

And then you go again, spooning this time, and you don’t make a joke about his outstanding refractory period because you are too busy trying to make sense of how many orgasms he pulls from you by sliding his hand down your belly and between your thighs.

The pattern starts over. You talk a bit more, but the topic never lands on what you had planned during your way-too-sugary (Joel’s words) lunch together.

Instead, Joel suggests bringing you to his shower, but you reassure him that you are far from done with him for the night, so he might as well save the hot water and the money for the heating bill.

He hums in agreement but does, however, convince you to hydrate with a huge glass of water and to wipe yourself down with a damp flannel that he gets for you during a lie about having to pee. The flannel has cooled down on its journey from the bathroom but it soothes your aching clit the second you hold it over the swollen nub. You sigh contentedly whilst Joel lays down behind you once again. 

“Right, where were we?” You say excitedly. 

Joel sighs into your neck and tightens an arm around you, “Thought I had made ya forget about that.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to get to know you better,” you tut, patting the hand that splays on your belly, “Now tell me if you were a jock in high school.” 

“You got some nerve,” his chest rumbles as he talks, “Definitely wasn’t. I spent all my teen years keepin’ my baby brother outta trouble, you think I had time to play football? Did try baseball once though.”

“I feel like there’s a joke about balls in there,” you lean back and turn slightly to look up at him, wiggling your brows. 

“Shut up,” he laughs, and you don’t think you have ever witnessed the man laugh as much as he has done in the last hour. 

“I’m just saying you don’t know if you haven’t tried it,” you continue. A warm feeling settles in your heart as he breaks into another grin followed by a chuckle. The hand on your stomach digs into your side, triggering a fit of gleeful giggles as you are tickled. He overpowers you so easily and you quickly find that he is relentless. It’s a fight, a struggle that turns into several kisses everywhere on your face when he is suddenly on top of you again.

That’s when you hear a knock on the door. You look at each other for a second before Joel shoots up from the couch, already pulling on his boxers and fighting to make his semi-hard cock go down. He points at you, “Stay down. They can’t see you if ya just stay down. Ain’t gonna invite anyone in.” 

You make yourself as flat as possible and hear Joel’s sharp intake of breath as he looks through the spy hole. 

“‘S your old man,” he says, flinching when there’s another rap on the door. 

Your pulse spikes, “Well then don’t act suspicious.”

“Right, didn’t think of that,” he deadpans, quickly flattening the hair that has been yanked by you a few times tonight, “Don’t say a thing, okay?”

Joel opens the door after your dad starts calling for him on the other side. He smiles a little forced at first, “Sorry, was just tryna look presentable.”

“Family’s out, so I thought I’d see if ya wanted to catch a game,” your dad says, and you can hear the smile on his face and him holding up what you assume to be a six-pack. 

“Now’s not really a good time,” Joel replies. You dare to look up through your lashes in the front door’s direction. Joel has a hand on the doorframe, barring the door in case your father tries to invite himself in. 

“I won’t be here long!” 

Joel’s feet shift a little, “Just ain’t a good time, buddy.”

“What does that mean? And why are ya barely dressed—“ there’s a brief pause, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Got someone over? Ya old dog. Damn, look at you. Still got it,” your father’s hand is visible in the doorway. It nudges Joel’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Because it’s your fucking daughter and it’s the best sex she’s ever had, you think to yourself and consider screaming into the cushions. 

“Right,” your dad hands over the sixpack, “You need this more than me. I’m proud of ya, Miller.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Joel rushes to end the conversation, “‘Nother time. I’ll call you.”

They exchange goodbyes. You peek up at Joel when he closes the door, awaiting his next words to figure out how to react. He stays silent though, even as he walks to the couch again. 

You bend your knees to let him fall into one of the seats. He runs a hand over his scruff, and you refrain from placing your feet in his lap. 

“That was…” He eventually breathes without any tone to his voice, “Somethin’.”

“Good for you for getting laid,” you joke. 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you move to get up from your seat, hold your hand out for him to take, “C’mon. Let’s go shower, wash that guilt off your face.” 

“Ain’t guilt, just concern,” he promises as you help him up. He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Could never feel guilty 'bout this.” 

“We ain’t talking about that after we almost got busted by my dad,” you repeat his phrase from lunch, mocking his southern drawl. 

“I feel like there’s no better time to do it,” he catches on with a smile. 

You kiss him, and start to pull him along, “Tomorrow.”

.

.

.

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[rinhaler]

PRELUDE

CHAPTER SUMMARY : Your best friend Chigiri is hanging out at your place helping you wrap gifts for the holidays. Weird coincidence that your ex-boyfriend's brother texts you while you're talking about him with an invitation to visit the Itoshi family cabin!

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alchol consumption, mentions of a breakup.

WORDS : 1k

notes: SOOOOO nervous to share this but I hope u all enjoy :3

               MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Do you miss him, still?” Hyoma asks, helping you wrap gifts to deliver to your family throughout the week. His question halts you, momentarily, before you shrug the thought away. “I get it, this time of year makes you think about things like that too much.”

You sigh, finishing one present and placing it in a tall gift bag before starting another.

“I don’t have any right to miss him, right? I ended things…” you try to laugh at yourself so you don’t cry, but Hyoma knows you too well, he knows how sensitive you are. He knows how you try and downplay your feelings so that you don’t make others feel uncomfortable.

But he knows you.

“It’s a big change, though.” he reminds you, “Cut yourself some slack.”

“Anyway!” you giggle, still trying to hide your true feelings before you burst into tears. “I’m dreading Christmas. I’m meant to be seeing my parents on different days, my dad has a new girlfriend who is younger than me. It’s so weird.”

“I told everyone I’m working so I don’t have to see anyone all week.” he smirks, laughing a little when he sees you staring at him with a look of horror. It’s kind of genius, really, you’re a little jealous you didn’t think of it. “It’s my birthday week, I choose peace.” he tells you, defending his choice.

“I love your birthday.” you tell him, finishing up another present. You stand up so you can stretch your body, sitting on the ground is definitely taking its toll. You end up yawning loudly as your body relaxes, but you feel a surge of energy as you look down and see a notification on your phone.

SAE: hey, are u doing anything next week?

“Um…” you say, pacing around a little as you read the text over and over. You catch Chigiri’s attention, he finishes wrapping the last item and puts it in the bag for your dad. “Sae just texted me.”

“Sae? What did he say?” he wonders, pulling his body up so he’s sitting on the couch behind him rather than the cream, fur rug in the middle of the hardwood floor. “You’re still in touch with him?!”

“Well, y-yeah! I figured I broke up with Rin, not his family, so…” you explain, sitting next to him on the couch and showing him the text. His eyes widen, surprised at what he’s asking. “Once we started getting along we were close! I didn’t feel right about cutting him off too… should I reply?”

“I don’t know. This is weird.”

You roll your eyes and look at the text thread again.

YOU: it’s chig’s bday and I’m seeing family! wbu? SAE: my parents are in Europe for the holidays so I’m heading up to the cabin with some friends. Interested?

“Oh my God.” you speak, showing Chigiri your phone.

“Stop calling me Chigs.” he scolds you, focusing again to read the most recent text. “Shit. What’re you gonna say?”

YOU: can’t! hyoma will be alone for his bday if I come 💔

“Don’t use me as an excuse!” he chastises you. “If you wanna go, go.”

“I don’t want to… what if Rin is there?”

SAE: bring him. SAE: there’s more than enough room.

Your heart is racing. You only realise how much when Hyoma reminds you to breathe. Even your hands are trembling as you hold your phone. He doesn’t say anything in way of an answer if he’d like to come or not, he’s leaving it in your hands.

“I- it’s your birthday, Hyoma!”

“I don’t have plans! We’ll either spend it together at home or spend it together in a rich boy’s cabin.” he assures you. You smile, weakly, appreciative of the support. But there’s no way you can go. You can’t face Rin after everything, not yet, maybe not ever. “Whatever you wanna do, I’ll support you!”

You look down at your phone again, still having no idea what to say.

SAE: Rin won’t be there, that’s why I’m inviting you. YOU: … YOU: why? Let me guess, training? SAE: yeah. SAE: so… YOU: ugh… fine! If ur sure he won’t be there SAE: I’ll send the address 😊

“What am I doing?” you ask Chigiri, tossing your phone down onto the coffee table before turning to face him. He laughs, leaving you alone to open a bottle of Disaronno. “Hyoma… it’s 11am.”

He shrugs, “It’s Christmas.”

You laugh, watching him pour two small glasses for you both. The two of you get comfortable on the couch, facing each other, as you begin to dissect what just happened. He pulls the blanket down from the back of the sofa and you both struggle to adjust it with one hand each, neither of you willing to put down your drink.

Disaronno is dangerous, because it tastes so good. You drink it, lots of it, forgetting it isn’t in fact Dr Pepper in a glass. You both end up wasted, forgetting everything that just happened.

You look at your sparse Christmas tree, feeling a wave of sadness as you remember this time last year you and Rin had decorated it together.

“I do miss him…” you tell Chigiri after a lull of silence, lip wobbling as you think fondly of your ex. Chigiri shakes his head, though, taking another big gulp of a much larger drink.

“Don’t start.” he insists.

You sigh, putting your drink down and taking a few deep breaths. He tries to distract you with nonsensical chit chat, though it doesn’t really help. Rin is still at the forefront of your mind, no matter how hard you try and push him away. Who’s stupid idea was it to drink at 11am? Hyoma’s! It’s all his fault you’re in your fucking feelings.

“Hey, I’ve been wondering something…” he tells you, tilting his head as he thinks. “How are you gonna get out of seeing your parents for Christmas?”

You look at him, dumbfounded. You lean back over to the coffee table to grab your drink without taking your eyes off him. It’s gone in one swig, so he tops it up again. And you devour that, too.

“… Fuck.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[janaispunk]

end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

[korizzybee]

Imagine being Jake Sully’s and Neytiri’s adopted daughter, child of someone who was an old friend of Jake’s:

Info: reader’s mom’s avatar had darkskin black features (Afro hair + dark eyes + dark blue skin) so reader also has those features, reader has an Jamaican accent, reader is Navi Avatar hybrid and has 5 fingers and eyebrows, reader is 13 years old

Boom your mom was 5 years old when she moved from Jamaica to North America, she and Jake became childhood friends (more like they became soul siblings)

The same day the RDA recruited Jake, they recruited your mother too

She also spends time observing the Navi and learning their ways with Jake, but Tsu’Tey was her teacher instead

As she lives there for months, she and Tsu’Tey fall in love and mate at the tree of spirits (JAKE N NEYTIRI DUUUUPE)

She and Neytiri actually became pregnant at the same time, literally shortly after they both mate with their men at the spirit trees

Your dad dies during the war yada yada yada, they win and skip boring stuff

For some reason when Neytiri has her baby, your mother is unable to give birth to you and she remains pregnant for 2 more years

The pregnancy drains her energy, making her look even skinnier and her skin color fade as her cheeks become hollow

When she finally gives birth and before she dies she whispers a name that’s a mixture between her’s and Tsu’Tey’s

Neytiri holds your small crying form silently shushing you while Jake cries over your mom’s dead body, she was like an older sister to him

Jake adopts you and when you’re old enough he starts teaching you about your human culture as it was a big part of your mother’s life and she loved her culture more than anything

This leads him to also explaining why you’re different from all the other Omaticaya, but he also explains it’s not a bad thing

You growing up with mixing your life with both your Navi and Jamaican cultures

You are the closest to Neteyam, he’s SOOOOO protective over you (you are his favorite shhhh don’t tell Lo’ak)

Since you’re a lot shorter than your older siblings, you often get carried by them

Jake teaching you so much about humans, pop culture references, music tastes n everything!!!! (Girl you literally take inspiration from his teachings and make your own clothing style out of Navi clothes)

Neytiri making you the most beautiful song cord ever about the love story of your mom and Tsu’Tey and your birth

You and Kiri bonding over both being adopted

You and Tuk are so goofy together, always making Neytiri laugh n shi

You two also bond over being the babies of the family

You and Lo’ak always playing tag in the forest

You immediately loved spider when you all first met him as little kids, (I mean, your mom was once human so you didn’t hate them at all)

ALWAYS wearing your mother’s Na’vi and human hair pieces and your father’s necklaces

Jake teaching you how to fight the human way because your mom was better than everyone in the RDA at that

Going to the Lab with Kiri to see videos of your moms together (they also grew to be close friends and would sometimes just make videos of them being stupid together)

Jake and Neytiri are the only ones allowed to do your hair (your mom taught them how to take care of Afro hair once), they make sure your hair is always healthy

You look so much like your mom but you get your smile, eye shape, and bodily markings from Tsu’Tey

When you can’t sleep, Jake would tell you his childhood memories about your mom

You’re a very spiritual child, always talking with a calm voice, you’re a little shy and always have a good opinion on everyone (girl while Neteyam finna future clan leader, you’re the future Tsahik)

Boom Quaritch bitch ass shows back up (YALL IM SORRY BUT HIS AVATAR IS SO FINEEEEE) and y’all have to flee

You have your own Ikran and she’s named after your mother (let’s just call her Irie)

Y’all make it to the lands of the Metkayina and Ronal starts hating on y’all for being different then she points out how your hair and looks over all are different from your family’s

Neytiri hissing at her as Neteyam and puts you behind him side eyeing Ronal, Jake defending your looks (W DAD)

Y’all get to live among the clan and lowkey….Rotxo he kind of crushing on you I mean not tryna be that one writer butttt uhhh you are the prettiest member of your family (behind Neytiri no one beats her)

You and Rotxo lowkey be flirting with your eyes, giving each other shy looks and blushing like middle schoolers

BUT ANYWAYS THAT’S IT FOR PART 1 IMA DO A PART 2 (this has been marinating in my drafts for months)

[k-atsukibakugou]

big brother bakugou who always finds a reason to be so in your space just to hear you whine and try to push him out of your room

big brother bakugou who smiles down at you every time you squeal when he pinches you, who’s red eyes zero in on the tiny bruises he leaves on your thighs and hips

big brother bakugou who gets hard whenever you blush getting cornered by him

big brother bakugou who squeezes behind you a little too close when you’re alone in the kitchen together

big brother bakugou who flips your skirt up just to hear your sweet gasps, to hear you chastise him, to tell him to stop

big brother bakugou who promises oral isn’t real sex, none of your friends said they lost their virginity when they got eaten out

big brother bakugou who blows against your wet panties to feel you shiver at how cold they get

big brother bakugou who buries his face in your pretty cunt while you’re pinned against a wall, a leg haphazardly thrown over his shoulder and your fingers twisting in his hair

big brother bakugou who’s only heard your begging once and already wants to hear it every day, again and again, promising himself he’ll be trying even harder to get between your thighs no matter how much you whine about how much of a pervert he is for it

big brother bakugou who pulls away and smooths out your skirt right as you’re about to cum on his tongue because what happened to “its wrong, ki, we can’t do that, ki, don’t touch there, ki, stop, ki…”?

big brother bakugou who’s just so so so gross and so so sooooo addictive

[blackhairedjjun]

staying afloat - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, argument -> makeup, implied friends to lovers, office worker!taehyun, the subtlest of love confessions | word count: 899 | warnings: burnout and exhaustion from overwork

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - HEAT: while engaged in a passionate argument with one another, sender, in the heat of the moment, blurts out “i love you!” to the receiver. think of like, that glorious trope where people have a huge argument and then suddenly sb drops the mic with “because i’m in love with you!” and silences the other person. u know the trope! (requested by anon)

author's notes: HI ANON im sorry this took sooooo long. as i said, this was hard for me to write bc i already did the heat prompt twice before and i didn't want to be too repetitive with the arguments... the argument here is a bit calmer and more one-sided on yn's part but i hope it still works!

“you are running yourself into the ground, taehyun!” you grab his shoulders and give him a little shake. taehyun watches you closely, and you can see the darkening circles under his eyes. 

he’s still standing before the threshold of your home, right in front of the door. with just one step he could walk in if you weren’t blocking his way. outside, the night air is so cold that you shivered instantly upon opening the door for him. the sky is dark, with neither moon nor stars, and the only light comes from the fluorescent bulb at the doorway.

“y/n, you’re up working too,” he says. his voice is steady but firm. “you can’t tell me what not to do when you’re also working like this.”

“i’m doing overtime for just one night, for god’s sake. but you 一 you’ve been so busy and tired for what, two weeks? you forget to answer my texts. forget!” you throw your hands up. “and you’ve never forgotten before, not in all the years that i’ve known you.”

taehyun stuffs his hands into his pockets and his gaze flickers away from yours for a second before it returns. though he tries to stand his ground, you notice the soft look in his eyes, laying bare the tiredness and worries weighing down on him.

“well, i’m here now. why won’t you let me make it up to you?”

“because it’s one in the morning and you’ve been staying up late for overtime and extra projects for what, two weeks now? you go home late and you wake up early, your boss dumps all this work on you, and you barely get any time off!” you take a step closer, now fully exiting the warmth of your home, to stand so close to him. “please, taehyun. it’s not that i don’t want to see you, but you’re so, so tired. i can see it in your face.”

you reach out to touch his face, but his expression goes taut and your hand hovers just inches away. he turns away from you before you can scan his eyes for the tired look you saw; a cold breeze blows by, causing both of you to shiver and pushing the bangs away from taehyun’s forehead.

he looks... sadder than what you remember. you remember how easily his face would light up before he took on his new position at his job; he would smile at the smallest of your remarks, his big eyes sparkling like jewels. you thought of the steady stream of texts from him day after day, reminding you to eat or commenting on a silly photo you took, and how that stream soon turned into a trickle. the memories make your body feel heavy.

taehyun says nothing for a few moments and just lets out a sigh. when he looks back at you there’s a pained look that wasn’t there before, and you feel an ache in your chest at the sight.

 “y/n, i... i don’t want you to worry about me like this. i can’t... i can take care of myself. please, please just trust me. i hate watching you worry like this.”

“oh, you hate watching me worry?” your tone rises before you even realize it. “and i hate watching you turn into this! you’re exhausted, taehyun. you’re not yourself anymore. i can’t even remember the last time i saw you smile! do you know how much it hurts to see the person you love lose himself like this?”

you tremble in your spot and your words start to trip over themselves. your emotions pile onto each other, keeping you from speaking straight: some anger, yes, but mostly disappointment, worry, loneliness, fear. “i ha一 i hate seeing you like this, taehyunie. i can’t一 i can’t watch一 i love you too much to see this一”

taehyun cuts you off to pull you into a hug. he holds onto you so tightly, as if trying to wrestle you away from the emotions gripping you. one of his hands makes his way through your hair. angry tears prick at your eyes but you relax in his hold, finally letting out a sob.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his hand combing through your hair then rubbing your back. “i know you’re just looking out for me... and you’re right. i am exhausted...”

something shifts and now you feel his full weight on you. now you’re the one holding him, his head moving to rest in the crook of your neck, his shoulders fully slumped. the weeks of exhaustion have finally caught up to him, and you wrap your arms around his waist to prop him up.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he repeats. “for not... listening to you... for forgetting...”

your hold on him tightens and tears stream down your face, but you manage to speak. “i just don’t want you to hurt yourself...”

neither of you say anything more. taehyun doesn’t let go of you and sinks fully into your touch; despite the chill night air, he’s still warm in your arms. you let your tears fall freely as you keep a firm hold on the friend you love, as if letting go of him means he will sink and drown.

the night is so quiet that the murmur he lets out against your neck still comes out loud and clear.

“i love you too.”